


Can't Be Replaced

by calicokahlia14



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Angst, Early Series, F/M, Hidden Feelings, O.C. added to early season 1 episodes, Partial Underage (Age change), Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-17 00:02:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 35,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14176224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calicokahlia14/pseuds/calicokahlia14
Summary: This story is the works of Sam and Dean pre and early season 1 with the added Orignal Female Character O.C. Stormee. Bear with me, for I began writing this in 2011, so ignore any typos and bad plots for the stories. Just figured I would continue it after, what, seven years? Wow.





	1. Broken Dreams

Stormee's P.O.V.

We were headed down I-45, the rainy and over casted weather turning my mission gloomier. I knew this was going to be hard. Emotionally and damn sure physically. It's been two years since I've seen him; heard his voice and felt him hold me. Two years since that damned yellow-eyed demon took him. Hell, I didn't even know if he was alive. Could he be? Was he still out there? Was he suffering?

I sank down in the leathery backseat. Only vaguely aware that I was still being driven by two demons. They didn't know who I was, didn't know what I was doing here. They just thought they could be in for a new, younger meat suit. And I'd be damned if I was going to be possessed by a filthy demon.

"You sure your feeling okay, Vanessa?" the she-demon asked, unaware I knew she didn't really care if I was feeling fine or that my instincts were shouting, "KILL! KILL! KILL!" Of course I wouldn't kill them…not yet, anyways.

Yellow-eyes was definitely a big kahuna in their world, so I would try to get some info out of them. "Vanessa?" she asked again. Oh, shit…I forgot I gave them a fake name. "Oh, um, yes, ma'am." I said, biting back the sarcasm. I was in a car with two fucking demons! Oh, yeah, I was totally fine.

"I just want to rest a little." I laid my head against the window to my left. I was sure I could handle two demons with what I had on me. I casted quick glances at them from the corner of my eyes, watching them try and act like a normal couple helping a lost teen. I had tracked them and I knew they would be in this area. I made sure it was their SUV that I signaled down when I put on a façade of being left out here by my boyfriend. That hit so close to home, though. I had been left. But, unwillingly. They gingerly offered to take me to the nearest town. Which I knew was at least an hour away. That is, a town that actually had phones was an hour away. We were about fifteen minutes into the drive and I was waiting for the half-hour mark to hit and say I was feeling sick. They would let me out of the car. If I stayed out long enough that she-demon was most likely to come and try to 'see if I was okay.' I had accidently drifted off to sleep and felt myself being pulled into re-living the memory that has haunted me for two years.

It's been a weird day _, I thought to myself. Carter and I had been out for coffee that morning and found ourselves being basically interrogated by a detective. He had said his name was Daniel Williams, and he was investigating an ongoing case of a string of kidnappings. It was a strange conversation. Though, later, the detective left to apparently talk to his partner, who he hadn't mentioned before._

 _Now, Carter and I were alone at his house watching_ Night of the Living Dead _. It was the original, thank God. And I was cuddled up to him, my head lying on his shoulder. It was just to the part where Barbara found herself at the house after running from some 'psychopath' in the cemetery. She was scared out of her wits. The strange man had attacked her and her brother Johnny. And she had left him only out of desperation and because of being completely terrified._

_I'd seen this movie thousands of times but after my parents died in a car accident I never really wanted to. But, Carter was here and I knew I was safe. I snuggled closer to him, inhaling his scent. He smelled of axe cologne and cigarettes. Oddly, I loved that smell. Barbara had finally gotten inside and was met by a man._

_Then, there was a knock at the door. I was getting into this movie and thought it had come from it, but then I thought,_ Um, since when do zombies knock? They're not gonna be all like, -knock knock- "Hey, wanna let us in? We just wanna eat your bra— _"I was cut out of my thoughts as I felt Carter moving up from his place on the couch. "Car, where ya goin'? We aren't outta popcorn are we?" I looked at the bowl. Nope, still mostly full. Then I realized that the knocks were still continuing. "Who do you think it is?" I asked him. He shrugged and continued to the front hallway._

 _I involuntarily got up and followed him. In case it was one of those ignorant bitches from school who always showed up wanting to hangout with Carter thinking they could put a move on him_ _ **.**_ Ha-ha, not by a long shot _, I thought. They never seemed to get that they weren't getting close to him. I was only fourteen at the time, and Carter had just turned sixteen, but I knew a trick or two. It only took four muscles in your arm, wrist and hand to smack a bitch, and I wasn't scared to either. Then a sudden gust of cold night wind brought me out of my thoughts._

_Carter had opened the door while I was zoned out. But, it wasn't one of those girls standing there, but a man dressed in full black with startling, yet intriguing, eyes that seemed to glow yellow in the light that spilled from the open doorway. "Um, can I help you, sir?" Carter asked the strange man that stood on the porch. The man looked up at Carter and I and he plastered a wide smile on his face._

_"I was just wondering if you might have a phone I could use. My car overheated and I need to call my wife to tell her that I will be late and maybe a tow truck."_ Oh, so cliché _, I thought. But, Carter being the Good Samaritan he was invited the man in and led him to the kitchen to use the cordless phone mounted on the wall._

_I just followed them, wanting to get back to the movie, and back to his arms. The man started to dial a number then put the phone back on the wall mount and looked at Carter; seeming to look straight through him and into me. Like he could see the growing uneasiness that seized my mind. Carter didn't seem to notice, though. So, I said nothing. I just faked a kind smile. Then that's when the gust hit me._

_I turned around and saw that, down the hallway, the front door stood wide open; the fall leaves being brought in by the breeze. I knew I had shut that door. It had creaked and clicked shut like it always did. I was sure of it. Then, it slammed shut. No one was near it._

_Carter jumped and turned around. "What was that, Stormee? Why'd you slam the door?" Being my cocky self, I replied, "Hun, have you realized that I am in the same place I just was and have been holding your hand since we've been in the kitchen?" Carter looked at me, testing my words. "Must have been the wind," He said._

_I looked back at the man, remembering he was there and realizing he hadn't said a thing since being led into the house. "Um, aren't you supposed to call your wife?" I asked him. The strangest feeling came over me. I swear I saw something flash in his eyes. But, it was gone as soon as the thought was._

_The man then broke out in a wide, triumphant grin that gave me chills. He looked psychopathic. "And now the show begins," He said. "Carter, Stormee? One lesson…never let anyone inside your home, especially if they're a demon."_

_His eyes flashed completely yellow; a glowing evil thing it appeared to be. Carter looked at the man, a sudden knowing in his eyes. We had never told the man our names. The lights flickered and the man's smile grew bigger, if that was even possible._

_I was scared. I had never been this scared in my life. Carter seemed to feel me tense up and he squeezed my hand, slowly pushing himself back into me, leading me into the hallway. He looked back at me and I know what that look meant._ **Run** _._

_As soon as the recognition flickered in my mind, Carter was thrown against the wall. But, by whom? No one had moved. Another evil glint passed through the man's eyes and at a flick of his wrist I was thrown backwards into the hallway's wall, pictures pummeling me from above._

_The man's voice boomed, "I will now tell you why I am here. Carter, when you were an infant I marked you to be one of my army. I spilled my blood into you and now you have powers. Otherworldly powers. And I have come to claim what is mine."_ No _, I thought._ No one knew about what Carter could do. Only us. _Carter groaned in pain and I tried to get myself upright to move over to him. But my head was pounding and I had sharp pains stabbing themselves in my back._

_"Now, Carter, you are to come with me and fight against those who oppose our ways. We are going to take over the world. Hell on earth." Carter looked unnaturally determined, and fury burned in his eyes. "I will not. And don't lay another hand on her or I swear I will kill you."_

_His boldness surprised me, and yet I was still frightened of the fire burning in his eyes. It scared me and Carter never scared me. I had never seen this side of him. Carter was standing up now. Facing the man, determined to do whatever it took to get us out of here, he was suddenly brought to his knees. Straining against invisible chains. My heart ached. He was in pain, I knew it._

_Just then, the door burst open and Detective Williams from this morning came in. Yet something about him now seemed to settle in me. He was faking everything earlier. He wasn't a detective; he was someone who knew what he was dealing with. The man was then doused with liquid, which strangely enough looked like water, yet it burned the man and he was frantically trying to wipe it off._

_"John," the man growled, "You are going to regret this." A gun shot rang out just as Detective Willi—John was thrown back. He landed with a thud. The shot didn't seem to hit anyone or anything as far as I could tell but I was still aching. Carter remained on his knees trying to force the strange entity holding him down away._

_"Carter! Carter!" I screamed, feeling a burning in my throat that somehow mingled its way to my heart. I suddenly remembered I was dreaming. Re-living my last moments with Carter. I knew how this ended and I hated it._

_I guess he knew that he was being taken away because he looked at me with tears and love in his pained eyes and said, "Stormee, I lo—"_

Suddenly I was pulled from the dream as the car I was in lurched forward over a railing, the tires screeching on the wet pavement as they left the road for good. I remember being flipped over and over and finally everything leveled out. I was upright in the seat, my seatbelt keeping me in place.

The humans that the demons were possessing were definitely dead now. One was crushed by the dashboard caving in and the other was impaled through the throat. That was all I saw before everything faded to black.

I rustled awake to the sound of a conversation only to pass out again. Then, I fully woke up, only to see a familiar face. Bobby Singer was looking down at me.


	2. Waking Up Winchester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please bear with me as the story progresses. I had started writing this at age 14, and wanted to bring what I have learned throughout the years into to finish it

Sam's P.O.V.

_Around the time Stormee was getting in the car with the demons._

_I am so exhausted,_ I thought. Me and Dean were in the Impala driving down some highway that was wet from the rain. We were tracking a band of demons that were coming down through this way. Bobby had called one of his old friends to help out and we were about an hour and a half outside of the town we thought they were going to next.

I laid my head against the headrest and was jolted up by a loud shot. I looked at Dean and he laughed. "Scared of Def Leppard's intro, Sammy?" He was such a pain sometimes. "Dean, it's so deserted on this road that you don't need your old age music on top volume!" I stated. He put a lopsided grin on and turned up the music. "Not on top volume yet, Sammy!"

The car was filled with very loud guitar riffs, I didn't hear my phone ring but I felt it vibrate. I reached over and turned the music down, earning a "HEY!" from Dean, then reached out and answered the call. "Sam? Hey, where y'all idjits at?" Bobby asked. "About an hour and twenty minutes outside of Ravenden Springs."

The demons had taken us on a road trip from Tennessee, then somewhere in Kentucky and now we're in Arkansas. "Well, I sent the other hunter I called out that way. So, you may run into them. This one is great with demons. Hates 'em like dogs with cats." I said, "Well, we'll call you if we got anything, and you do the same, Bobby." Bobby replied with a, "Don't kill yourselves, ya idjits." Then the call was disconnected.

"HOTDOGS!" Dean shouted. "What?" I said. "This small town up here before we hit Ravenden is apparently known in Arkansas for its delicious hotdogs. Well, according to the billboard. It is up to me, Dean Winchester to try a couple of them, maybe thirty, to see if the billboard lies!"

I wiped a hand across my face. "God, Dean." I muttered. It was already dark out and the rain was pouring. We rounded a little corner and I was just getting settled when Dean slammed on the brakes. "What the hell, Dean!" I shouted. "Look over there, beyond the railing."

He was right about something. I noticed the railing being bent and messed up before I noticed the cause. A white SUV sat out in a clearing on the other side of the rails. It was so beat up it looked like it flipped at least four times.

Smoke was billowing above it and all I could think was: _Oh, shit. Somebody is hurt out there! How the hell has no one noticed?_ Then I recalled my earlier thoughts about how dead this highway was. Then Dean was in reverse and u-turning the car. He parked by the railing that looked like it got crushed by a meteor.

The roads must've been too wet and they hit the curve too fast. I hopped over the railing and plummeted down the small decline the road made to the clearing. I could see the dents and ruts in the muddy ground from the car. I was by the driver's side looking in, and then turning away before I knew it.

The driver had been impaled with the windshield wiper and the passenger was crushed by the dashboard. Dean had caught up by then and was inspecting the two seats in the front. I was suddenly drawn towards the backseat of the SUV. I tried the door and it wouldn't open. I used all my force and pulled the door towards me. The door made a thundering sound and gave. I looked down in the backseat and there was a teenage girl sitting there, still buckled up. She appeared to be unconscious and not dead because I could make out the small rise and fall of her chest.

"Dean!" I called to my brother. He was apparently still inspecting the front because he was there in a flash. "Is she dead?" He asked. "No, she's breathing but I don't know how bad she's hurt. We gotta get her someplace." Dean pulled out his phone and speed-dialed Bobby. He picked up almost instantly. From what I could make of the one-sided conversation, Bobby wanted us to stop the hunt for now and bring her back to Bobby's. I didn't understand why. Dean had just given a mere description of the girl and her wounds. It seemed to me that Bobby might know who it is.

But, who does Bobby know that's this young and who is from Arkansas. Well, I'm guessing she's from Arkansas because she's here. And I don't think people usua—she stirred. I was pulled out of my thoughts and called to Dean again. But, by the time he came over, the girl had passed out again, going still except for the faint rise and fall, rise and fall. Dean explained the rest of the conversation with Bobby to me and it was what I thought. Bobby wanted us to bring him the girl. But, why?

Well, he gave us an objective so I carefully unbuckled the seatbelt she had on and picked her up. I carried her back to the Impala and laid her in the backseat. "You need to sit back there with her in case she wakes up. So if she flips out and tries to grab the wheel or kill me, you can hold her down before I taze her." Dean said, with a stupid grin on his face.

I obliged out of courtesy to the girl and sat there basically holding her limp body up for two and a half hours until we stopped to get something to eat. Dean ordered to go so we wouldn't leave her in the car. I stayed in the backseat with her just in case she woke up while Dean was getting the food. She'd been out ever since we found her.

She was still out when we pulled into Bobby's. That was like…twelve hours. And it scared me. What if she was in a coma or something? Dean stopped, put the car in park and turned it off. We'd only made small chit chat on the way here, but I knew he was tired. We hadn't switched driving since we found her. I always stayed in the back with her. I carefully opened up the rear door and picked her up. I carried her inside and laid her on Bobby's couch. Bobby must have been researching because he came out of his study looking tired, used up and…worried? Why would he be worried? He couldn't possible know this girl. Could he?

"I knew it…" Bobby said, breaking the silence. He walked over to the girl and said, "Shit, Stormee." He then addressed me. "Has she woken up at all?" "No," I said, "We would have called you if she did. She stirred a couple of times but went back out again. Is she hurt bad? She in a coma? Wait, what did you call her? Do you know her?" Bobby looked like a kid caught with his hand in a cookie jar. "You know that hunter friend I called? This is her. Her names Stormee."

 _What did he just say?_ I thought. "Bobby, she can't be a hunter she's like 14." "No, she's sixteen actually. Not that that helps but, she had a good teacher. She knows your father." He stated. "What?" I asked. "How did she know dad?" Bobby looked at me like he was too tired to explain, but went on ahead anyway.

"A couple years back, when John left y'all boys here with me basically, he went out on a hunt. And not the usual. He went after Yellow-eyes. It just so happens that Stormee's boyfriend, oh, what was his name…Carter! Yeah, Carter, well he was like you, Sam. Yellow-eyes gave him blood and made him have powers. According to Stormee, she didn't know what caused them but only Carter and her had known about them. Carter could look into your head, boy and search through everything in there, and make you see what he wanted you to see. Good or bad. Well, one night, Stormee was at Carter's when Yellow-eyes showed up and threw a fit and took Carter.

"John got there right before and tried to kill 'im, but missed. Yellow-eyes took Carter that day and he's been gone for two damn years. After he left with him, and Stormee was out of shock, John explained everything. She took it damn well too. After that, Stormee wanted to know everything about hunting. So John relented. You remember he was gone for a couple months because he basically took that girl under his wing.

"He knew what she was feelin', boys. He knows what its like to have someone taken away. She's been a hunter ever since. She even stayed with me for a little while and I taught her a few more things. After that she's been solo. I call her every now and then about some cases and I just wanted to get her in on this one because I know what she can do. She's great at it. Even kicked my ass a couple times."

I had no idea what to think. She was so young, two years younger than me. But, I kind of understood.

We stayed in the living room. Dean being abnormally quiet.

Our awkward silence was broken when the girl, Stormee, stirred awake. She looked up at Bobby and had quite the confused look on her face. Then she sat up and hugged the old man.

"Bobby!" She said. But, her next words were cut off like she couldn't get them out. Bobby instantly got up and left the room. She looked around. Saw Dean straight across from her and smiled as though trying to introduce her self. Dean gave a small smile and a nod of his head in return.

She didn't notice me yet. I was behind her standing by the couch. Bobby came back into the room with a glass of water. She took it greedily and gulped it down in seconds. That was why she couldn't talk. She was thirsty as hell.

Bobby finally looked up at me and the girl noticed. She turned her head and saw me for the first time.

For some reason unknown to me, she nearly dropped her glass.


	3. Not Who You Think I Am

Stormee's P.O.V.

_From the moment she woke at Bobby's_

I woke up but my eyes stayed closed. My mind was replaying everything that happened since I got pulled out of the dream. Flashes of lightening and plummeting down, down, down rained across my mind. I felt comfortable though. As if I was lying on something soft and I heard quiet murmuring voices in the background.

They seem to be so distant. Then I opened my eyes. The first thing I see is Bobby freakin' Singer. Just lookin' down at me like I was the bearded lady at the damn circus. "Bobby!" I said. I was about say that I missed him and ask what I was doing here but there was an itchy, raw and burning sensation in my throat.

Bobby shot up like he just got poked in the ass by a ghost and ran out of the room. I sat up and took in my surroundings. I was in Bobby's living room. I haven't been here in a while.

I'm still looking around when I notice someone standing directly opposite me against the wall. He looked about twenty-something but he sure was good-looking. I smiled, trying to put it out there that I would be introducing myself if not for that damned burning in my throat.

Bobby came in just then, handing me a full glass of water that make me ache. I was so damn thirsty. I grabbed it and gulped and chugged. It felt so good. Smooth and cool, it was soothing the ache. I was looking at Bobby while drinking and noticed he looked behind me.

I slowly turn my head, ignoring the creaking of my sore bones and muscles. I look up and what I see can't even be described. A boy, about eighteen or nineteen. He stood behind me looking down. How could I have not noticed him before? He was gorgeous.

The lines in his face and his build were otherworldly. He looks so familiar. So, so great. He just simply looked down at me. And then a ghost of a faint smile crossed his lips and I quiver. He looks so familiar…like an older version of—I nearly drop my glass.

"CARTER!" I screamed.

Sam's P.O.V.

_Right before she screams_

She was just staring at me, like that kid getting that BB gun for Christmas. I tried to smile at her but it was faint. Like I couldn't fully get it out for some reason. She nearly dropped her glass. She looked at me like I was the only one there…and then she screamed. Not a frightened or angry scream. But a scream of recognition, of love, of loss.

"CARTER!" Though just being in a car crash she jumps up, throwing herself at me. I'm startled but I just let her hug me. She pulls back and kisses me hard on the lips. _What the hell?_ I thought. Then what she just said caught up to me. She screamed 'Carter!' She thought I was Carter.

Dean leaned off of the wall and looked around awkwardly. Bobby looked so sad. As if he was being sad for her. I pulled away from her grasp. "Oh, I missed you so much, Car!" I hate myself for having to say what I'm about to to her. "Um, Stormee, you've made a mistake. I'm not Carter."

She looks up at me and the look she gives me just breaks my heart. _If you have one,_ I told myself, _after what you just said to that poor girl._ She looked down and collapsed back on the couch. "What did I just do?" She cried. "I knew you couldn't be Carter. He's never coming back is he?"

Bobby looked pained and Dean unnaturally came over to try and soothe the broken girl. I stood there awkwardly. Then I did the most reckless thing I'd ever done. I pulled her up to me and hugged her so tight I thought she would break. "We will get him back, you can trust me. I will not let you down, Stormee." What did I just do? I know it doesn't sound like much, but in a world like this you can't throw out promises like that.

Especially when you promised the girl you just got kissed by to help her find her long lost boyfriend. And the horrible thing was…I thought for a second that I wanted to be Carter. I liked those few seconds she kissed me. And I wanted to act like I was him. Just so she would kiss me. What is wrong with me?

"Sam," she said to me. A thought flashed in my mind, _When had she been told my name?_


	4. I Know You

Stormee's P.O.V

_Right after she shouted "Carter!"_

I leapt up. It had to be him. Had to be. What else did I deserve for ridding the world of evil? I deserved to have him back. Before I knew it I threw myself at him, tears stinging my eyes as I buried my face in his neck. He made a slight 'oomph' as I squeezed him.

I only released him to look back at his…confused face? But before I could ask what the matter was my heart took control and pulled his face towards mine. I didn't know why but that's when the sparks flew. Almost literally. I felt a burning sensation spread through my lips and throughout the rest of my body; just by the touch of our lips. I had never experienced this with Carter before. I pulled back. It felt like a long time had passed since the kiss begun. Like forever. But it had only been a few seconds.

Now, after the sparks drained away, I wished it was forever. I jumped at speaking first. "Oh, I missed you so much, Car!" Then I caught the look on Carter's face. He looked stunned and…sad. He laid his gaze on mine. His big, round green eyes searching for something. That's when I remembered.

Carter…had blue eyes. What? This just had to be Carter! He looked back at me again; seeming to delve deep into my heart and soul with a mere look with those gorgeous eyes. "Stormee, I think you've made a mistake. I'm not Carter…"

My breathing became heavy and I felt the world spinning. I collapsed on the couch in shock. Who was that if it wasn't Carter?

"What did I just do?" I cried. "I knew you couldn't be Carter. He's never coming back is he?"

The other man, the one I had noticed earlier slowly came over to the couch and sat on the coffee table…trying to sooth me? It totally didn't look like his thing. And by the look Bobby was giving him as he rubbed my back, I was sure it wasn't. Not by a long, long shot.

Then I had this overwhelming urge to look back at the Not-Carter. _Sam,_ my mind urged, _His name is Sam._

Then I was pulled up by arms that seemed stronger than a bear's. I looked at him—Sam. His eyes were full of…regret? Regret for what? Kissing me back? Bringing me to Bobby's? Saving my life? Then a thought came across my mind. Why did I care? Who was he to me?

_Someone very important,_ my mind said, _and because your hurting to see him like this._ Hurting? Hell, I didn't even know the guy. He then pulled me into a tight hug. I was so shocked I didn't even move. After me mistaking him for Carter and basically raping him he wants to pull me into an embrace? One that feels oddly…I don't know…comforting…and right…?

He pulled himself back, still grasping me tightly. He looked me in the eyes and said, "We will get him back, you can trust me. I will not let you down, Stormee." I was startled. Where had this come from?

Why did he care about bringing Carter back? _Unless, unless he cares about you,_ my mind stated. No. I quickly pushed the thoughts away.

"Sam," I muttered. He looked at me with sincerity, and then worry flashed in his eyes, along with confusion. I thought back…I had just said his name. And we hadn't even been introduced yet. If my mind was right, and this was his name, how the hell had I known it? I quickly retreated from him. He still had a grip on me but let me go when I tried to pull away. It seemed a very reluctant move…on both of our parts.

I sat back down and looked at Bobby. He looked pained and slightly confused. "Bobby, can I have some more water, please?" He replied with a, "Duh, ya idjit," then left the room with my glass. The other man and…Sam…followed his retreating figure.


	5. Only To Disappear

Sam's P.O.V.

_Right before following Bobby_

I let her go. What just happened? She called me 'Sam'. How did she know my name? And what was this urging? I wanted to pull her back into me. But, she pulled herself back to the couch. "Bobby, can I have some more water, please?" Bobby said, "Duh, ya idjit." He left. Dean and I followed.

There was a yearning in me that begged me to stay with the girl. I left, though, totally ignoring the screaming-for-attention sensation. We were fully into to the kitchen when Dean turned on me. "What the hell was that, Sammy?" I was taken about.

"I don't know, Dean." I said, "Bobby, it was like I didn't have control. God, what she must be going through. And she called me 'Sam'."

Dean looked at me wide-eyed but Bobby just stood there, unknowing of the problem we were fixated on. "So? She knows your name, ya idjit." I looked at Dean then back to Bobby.

"We never told her our names, neither of us. And she was passed out the whole while she was with us." Bobby looked confused.

"Didn't y'all introduce yourselves when I went to get her water earlier?" Dean spoke then, "No one said a word." Bobby had a look crossing his face as if to say 'What the fuck?' I almost laughed.

"Well, then how does she know my name, Bobby?" He shook his head and shrugged. I turned to Dean.

"Do you know?"

"Don't have any idea, Sam."

I didn't know what to think. But, then, I felt it again.

I felt myself being pulled back to the living room. Bobby had already made his leave so I went that way too, hearing Dean behind me.

I turned into the living room and stopped dead.

She was gone.


	6. Cookin' Up a Storm

Stormee's P.O.V.

_Just after the guys left for the kitchen_

I sat there alone, contemplating my next move. Should I run because I don't know Sam or the other guy? Or is it just that? Am I afraid to leave because I would simply be away? No. sure he was gorgeous but I was **not** attached. We'd just met.

But, that urging to be buried in his arms, right up against him was still there. I wondered what he was going to think. I knew his name. It had apparently scared us both. But where had that name come from?

I realized that they were still in the kitchen. And that I must look horrible. I just had a car wreck and haven't seen a bathroom—or a mirror—in hours! I couldn't handle that. I respected Bobby and I didn't want to look like a complete idiotic wreck around him; especially with his choice of guests. I made my way out of the living room quietly, trying not to alert Bobby or the others.

I tip-toed up the stairs to the guest bathroom I had used when I stayed with Bobby a while back. I got to the door and creaked it open. The light was already on and it illuminated the medium-sized bathroom.

I quickly closed the door behind me and chanced a look in the mirror. I almost screamed but instead gasped and put a hand over my mouth. I **did** look horrible. My hair was everywhere; sticking up and poofy. I had a bloody nose and my shirt was ripped awkwardly.

I remembered having my bag in the car with me when we wrecked. Did they leave it? Because otherwise I have nothing. I found and old hair brush in one of the drawers under the sink and brushed out my own personal matted rat nest.

I really needed to shower. But, what was I going to put on afterwards. With my hair looking way better than it did, I set out to clean up my nose. I finished fixing it up and stood there staring at myself. I felt cold all of a sudden. Then the cold was pushed out of my mind by Bobby saying, "Shit! Where'd she go?"

They must have come back to the living room and saw that I was no longer there. I didn't reply yet. The cold wrapped itself around me again. It seemed like they were looking everywhere **but** here. Then, I heard a soft, warm voice. It made the cold subside; hide away from the heat.

"Stormee?" the voice called. "Stormee, are you in there?" I froze up. That voice. It was—Sam's. How did he know I was? What was I going to do? _Screw this,_ I thought. I'm not afraid of demons and dying, so why be afraid of one man?

I opened the door. Vaguely still aware of my torn shirt, I covered my front side with my hands and arms. To others, I would bet twenty dollars that I looked all fidgety.

"Oh, um, hey." I said to Sam, "I was just uh—I just wanted to clean up a little."

He looked nervous. "Oh, yeah, sorry!" He started to turn away when I abruptly stopped him. Why did I just do that? "I'm done now," I said, "Do I look that bad? I tried as best I could. But, you don't have any of—" I was cut off. "DEAN!" Sam yelled. The other man, Dean, I guess, appeared at the bottom of the stairs. "Yeah, Sam?" Dean asked.

"C-could you go get that bag we grabbed when we found her?" Sam asked.

"Uh, sure? Be right back, then. Oh, and, Stormee, by the way, I would have preferred you in my shirt than that torn up one, or one of the other ones you now know we picked up." He eyed Sam in mock anger.

Wow, what? I giggled and blush involuntarily. Sam kind of let his shoulders sag. Um, why? I looked down the stairs just in time to see Dean wink at me and disappear into the hallway beside the stairs. God, he was hot.

I must have been basically standing there drooling over Dean the whole time because Sam cleared his throat. For some reason, the gesture sounded desperate; like he **needed** me to acknowledge his existence.

I looked at him and he said, "Sorry, about Dean. He's a pig, but um, could you come downstairs I wanted to talk to you and I might need a little help." I looked at him, unsure of what to do. "With what?" I asked

"Um, this is gonna sound really stupid, but I don't know how to pre-heat and oven…" I hid a small smile and followed him downstairs to the kitchen. Cooking supplies were scattered everywhere.

"Bobby was tired so I decided to cook tonight. I hope you like spaghetti."

"What about Dan?" I heard myself ask?

"Oh, you mean Dean," Sam laughed, "Uh, you can't really get him to do anything he doesn't want to do." I eyed him, "Then how did you get him to go get my stuff—" _Which hasn't shown up yet,_ I thought, "—if that's true?"

"Oh, that was either, get your stuff or face the wrath of Bobby." I laughed; a long and shaky noise. Feeling cocky, I walked over to the oven and motioned for Sam to look.

"This," I poised my finger over a button labeled 'preheat 350', "Is preheat. It has a label underneath it. And all you do is press it, and when it dings, your food is ready to be put in." I smiled and pulled myself to sit on a nearby counter.

"What was that even about?" Dean asked as he entered the kitchen.

"He didn't know how to preheat an oven." I said, smiling.

Dean looked at me and then smirked. "You don't really believe that, do ya Stormee?" he asked.

Sam would look anywhere but at me. He was blushing really bad. I felt my face heat up a little, too.

"Even though **Sam** was the one who taught me how to preheat an oven—not that I will ever need too—you sure could teach me sometime if you want." Dean said. He smiled and it was obvious to all of us that he was joking.

"Hey, um, did you ever get my bag?"

"Yeah," Dean said, "It's in the living room. On the couch."

"Damn preheat…ugh…stupid…better…reasons…ugh…dumbass…" Sam muttered.

I could barely make out the words, but it seemed that he was beating himself up for having that excuse. I felt bad yet I wanted to be closer. Why? The urge had comeback.

Now, I felt cocky and indignant. Dean was smiling at Sam's awkwardness. I flashed Dean a last, reckless smile and gave Sam a quick peck on the cheek before bolting out of the room.

Wow, I really needed to control myself. Why did I just do that? But, oh, I was overrun with a warm and cozy sensation tickling its way around my body. Why had it done that to me?

If stranger Sam, the savior, could do this to me, I definitely wanted more of him.


	7. I Need a Drink

Sam's P.O.V.

_Just before Stormee left the kitchen_

I am so stupid. I was muttering under my breath, but I couldn't even understand the words. She looks at me, and I start crumbling. What is it about her? What makes me want to be so close to her?

Then she looked at me, again. I cowered in my mind. With a quick glance to Dean on her way out…she stopped and kissed my cheek. What just happened?

She finds out I'm not her boyfriend and still kisses me in some way? _It's what you wanted,_ my mind told me. I could feel the invisible lava spreading across and inside me from the place where her lips brushed my skin.

Does she know what that does to me? Does she know how good this particular form of euphoria feels; like its permanent, like the heat will stay forever? I realized that I have been sitting here in a daze since she left.

Dean looked at me, just nodding his head and smiling. I tense up, "What?" He chuckled, grabbed a beer from the fridge, basically singing, "Sammy's got a girlfriend; Sammy's got a girlfriend,"

Stormee's P.O.V.

_Just after she left the kitchen_

I walked out of the kitchen and down the hallway into the living room. I hadn't noticed before that the living room had two wooden sliding doors.

They seemed to connect to the kitchen. I walked around trying to find the bad that Dean said he put in here. He said it was in here, but where? _Ugh, where is it?_ I thought. I walked over by the adjoining doors to inspect the floor.

I barely made out a voice from behind it say, "What?" The other started chuckling. And footsteps sounded to what I expected to be the exit in the hallway. "Sammy's got a girlfriend," was all I heard in response. The footsteps grew faint then louder as they came down the hallway.

I hurled myself towards the center of the room. I didn't want to be caught eavesdropping. Especially when it was this funny. Dean rounded the corner of the hallway and entered the living room.

I tried to be nonchalant about it. He just basically called me Sam's girlfriend. And that sounded oddly pleasing in my head. "Whatchya doin'?" Dean asked.

"Um, uh—looking for my bag. Yeah," I said. He observed me, it seemed. "Uh, couch, remember?" Shit, he had told me it was there. It totally skipped my mind when I was listening to their little conversation.

"Oh, shit, yeah, sorry. I, uh, guess my heads still a little wacked out from the wreck." He looked at me closely and it made me quiver. It felt wrong but, I liked it.

"You look way better though. I'm kinda likin' it." He joked. At least I thought he was joking. Hoped actually. But some part of me didn't. "How old are you, anyway?" I asked, realizing that I didn't know much about him, either of them, for that matter.

"Twenty-two. Sam's my brother and he's eighteen. I hear you were sixteen, right?"

"Yeah,"

"Um, do you need anything? I mean, I know it's like ten but, I'm about to head into town and pick up a few things. If ya need something…" He trailed off.

I thought about it for a minute. "I've had a really messed up day. And I got a few fake IDs on hand if you wouldn't mind to maybe drop me off at a bar. If you're not too disapproving, that is…"

Dean's P.O.V.

Sixteen and wanting to get drunk? She was so much like me. I wondered what Bobby would think if he found out what I was about to do. She deserves a night away from this shit. "No," I said blatantly, but a smile played on my lips. "I feel like a drink or two, myself. So, I shall accompany you."

I wanted to get a good joke in about it but she cut me off by smiling so damn big and saying she was gonna go change. She ran off then I grabbed her shoulder, another smile on my face.

"If you're not wantin' to wear my clothes," I laughed, "Then you might be forgetting something." I grabbed her bag from its place on the couch and held it up.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry, Dean." She said, pink tingeing her cheeks. She took the bag and headed upstairs. Ugh, what was I getting myself into? Hell, how bad could the repercussions be?


	8. Chivalry, Nicknames, and Great Music

Stormee's P.O.V.

I had grabbed my bag and ran up to the guest bathroom, only to be met by Sam. _Nice timing there, buddy. I wanna get my drink on, I need this!_ I don't even remember seeing or hearing him come up the stairs.

"Oh, hey, Stormee. What are ya doin'?"

I panicked slightly. Was it okay to tell him what I was doing? I decided yes but not to the full extent. "Oh, just getting cleaned up and changed. I'm heading into town with Dean to pick up a few things."

Something flashed in his eyes. Anger? Sadness? No…jealousy. I could tell. He stepped out of the doorway to the guest bathroom. "Your room is ready for you, m'lady." He grinned.

Wow, this is random. It was kind of funny and sweet, too, though. "Oh, such chivalry found in a nobleman of the kingdom's court." I curtseyed and almost doubled over laughing. Then I went inside the bathroom.

My heart was pounding from the laughter that I thought would never stop. I pulled some old (but cute) jeans with scattered rips and holes and a red tank top from my bag. I slid them on and looked in the mirror to see what to do about what looked back.

I brushed my long black hair into a wavy curtain around my shoulders and put on a bit of concealer and a little eye-liner. "Damn," I said, "Lookin' good, Storm."

"That's your nickname for yourself?"

I felt terror seize me and immediately jumped into defense position towards the bathroom door. Crouching slightly, I put my arms up, a fierce look on my face. Then I frowned. Dean stood in the doorway.

Apparently he had opened the door without me noticing. What a great hunter of evil I am. "When did you come in here?" I asked.

"About the time you were giving yourself black eyes." Dean laughed, "But, I do have to agree with you, Storm. Not lookin' too bad." He winked. And I felt myself blush. He seemed to see it through the makeup because he put on a small smile and asked, "You ready?"

"Yeah, what about Sam, though?" I asked.

"Oh, he'll be fine. Researching. That's his thing."

"Kay, cool." I grabbed my fake ID and felt a little disappointed that he wasn't coming.

"Let's go Deano." I joked. "Deano?" he said.

"You called me Storm, so, yeah, Deano, I called you Deano." I smiled as he 'ughed' and turned to go downstairs. I just met him and already gave him a nickname? What the hell? But, hey, at least I wasn't secluding myself and shying away.

I grabbed a small purse I kept in my bag and put a few necessities in it, along with a wad of cash. I headed outside of the house, bag in tow, towards the car. But I felt cold all over. And not the inner cold. It was freezing outside. Dean was leaning against his car and walked over to me, starting to shrug off his jacket.

"No, just give me a minute. I'll be right back." I ran inside and dug through my bag. I got out my leather half-jacket and slid it on. I briefly looked at myself. Then, satisfied, I walked back outside and saw Dean in the car listening to "Rock of Ages" and slightly humming.

I couldn't help my self. I just started belting it out.

"Rise up, gather round. Rock this place to the ground. Burn it up, let's go for broke. Watch the night go up in smoke…" Dean smiled, looked and me and sang, "Rock on, Rock on." I got in the car with him and wed started singing.

"Drive me crazier. No serenade, no fire brigade, just pyromania. What do ya want? What do ya want? I want rock 'n roll. Yes, I do. Long live rock and roll…"

 _Oh, yeah, this night is going to be good,_ I thought.


	9. Like a Man

Dean's P.O.V.

_Later, at the bar_

Ah. The bar we stopped at; crowded and loud. Just the way I like it, thank God. So many drunks; I'm gonna have to watch out for her the whole time… But, hey, it's not that bad. She seems cool, not at all uptight.

I eyed two open stools at the bar and started towards them, motioning for her to follow. We sat down and I ordered a shot of whiskey and a beer. She stays quiet.

"What's wrong?" I asked her once the bartender was away. She looked nervous. "I wanted to tell you I like your taste in music," She stalled, "And I was going to get something but I don't wanna look stupid." She blushed.

I smile big and said, "Thanks and go ahead. Nothin' too girly for me." She considered this a moment. "Um, barkeep?" she called to the bartender, who I was obviously checking out. She turned and walked this way. Stormee tore her gaze away from the approaching bartender and looked at me hard; like a challenge.

"Yeah, what can I get ya, girl?" the woman asked. What did that look mean? Was she mad at me for checking gout the bartender? No way. The next thing she said shocked and intrigued me. She drank…like a man.

"Six shots of bourbon, four tequila, and two beers." The bartender nodded and walked down the bar a little ways, brought her drinks and Stormee downed most of 'em right then.

"What. Was. That?" I asked her. "I thought you were getting something girly? No daiquiri? Or virgin bloody Mary?" I exclaimed.

"I don't drink that shit," she said, "I drink like and alcoholic during Woodstock." She laughed and I don't know what it was. But, when she just laughed and smiled, and when she acted like this, all down to earth, I wanted to kiss her.


	10. I'm His What?

Stormee's P.O.V.

Wow. This noise. It makes me feel as if I can just sink below it and be invisible for a while. But, by the way I'm getting eyed by some of these guys here, it seems that I won't get to be under the radar.

The bartender brought my poison. Dean looks so confused. Ha. Gotchya. I downed four of my six shots of bourbon, two of my tequila and opened a beer. Dean just sat there staring as if he's just witnessed a kitten pull out an AK-47 and start flying.

Dean goes, "What was that? I thought you were getting something girly? No daiquiri? Or virgin bloody Mary?"

I replied with a, "I don't drink that shit. I drink like an alcoholic during Woodstock." I laughed so hard at that; smiling so big. I thought I had snorted. And the way Dean was looking at me, he seemed deep in thought. About what?

"Hey, cutie, can I buy you a drink?" I was nudged from behind. I looked at the person. He was a big burly man, about thirty. He had on a blue jean jacket over a white wife-beater and old blue jeans completed with steel-toed boots.

"Fuck off, man." That surprised me. While I was observing the man, Dean had stood up and addressed him.

"What did you just say to me, boy?"

Dean chuckled, "I said, 'Fuck off, man.' Now, you got a problem with that? Just go on your merry little way. And leave her alone."

"What is she to you? Why don't you just introduce us and leave us alone for a bit?"

I just sat there watching the testosterone-fueled argument in awe. What is that doing? He might have a few inches and some odd amount of pounds on Dean, but if Dean was a hunter like me, this guy didn't stand a chance.

Dean spoke again, "This is my girlfriend, and this is the floor." Deck. Dean had reared his arm back and punched the other guy. The man fell to the floor and my jaw dropped down there, too.

Dean downed his beer, threw some money on the bar, and grabbed my hand. He started pulling me to the door. I said nothing. Why? Was it because he just felt he had to keep an eye one me, kind of protective-like? Or did he mean something by it?

We got outside the bar and he opened the passenger door of the car for me. I got in and he shut it, walking around to his side. I hadn't said a word since the Woodstock thing. It seemed like the worst joke in the world, now. Dean got in the other side and slammed the door. He was pissed.

At me? For even thinking about coming here? For me being the reason we left the bar? For me being here at all? We drove back to Bobby's in silence. He didn't even have any music on.

We pulled up at Bobby's and I had to break this damned silence. I didn't want him mad at me.

"Dean, I'm sorry about what just—" Dean cut me off… He had leaned over and pressed his lips against mine. I was stunned but, for some reason, I kissed him back.

"Don't be," he said with a small smile. He got out of the car and walked inside, leaving me speechless and…breathless. I just stared after him.

 _He's got a nice ass,_ I thought.


	11. Stuff Your Face

Sam's P.O.V.

I was sitting in the front room researching a case I found to try and keep my mind off of recent events when I heard the familiar grumble of the Impala outside.

The engine turned over once more and then turned off. I strained my ears to hear the sound of the doors open and close. _Where is it?_ I thought. A full minute later, I heard it. But only **it.** Only one.

I know that's the Impala, but didn't they both go out tonight? The door opens then, and I ease back into my chair. Dean walks over the threshold, a stupid grin on his face "How _you_ doin', Sammy?" he asked.

 _What's up with him?_ "Uh, Dean, are you feelin' okay? Where's Stormee?" Dean's smile grew wider. _Oh, God, what did he do?_ "Oh, she'll be in in a minute. She's just in the car; calming down." His smile faded, replaced by anger.

"There was this dick at the bar." I thought about this for a second. "Wait, bar? Why was she at a bar? She's sixteen!" I exclaimed. Dean knew better than this. And I was worried about Stormee.

"Dude," he replied, holding his hands in front of him in a 'calm down' gesture, "She's fine and she needed a night out. I didn't let anything go to far."

"So," I said, after I calmed down a bit, "What happened at the bar?" Dean shook his head. And chuckled, "We were at the bar, right, and some guy comes up behind her and he's like 'Hey, cutie, can I buy you a drink?' She doesn't respond, so I stood up and was like 'Dude, fuck off' and he goes on this rant about me just introducing him and leaving them be. And I was like 'Well, this is my girlfriend, and this is the floor' and then I hit him." He said, laughing a little. "Really, really, hard."

Dean still chuckled, but it barely registered to me. _He called her his girlfriend? Why? And why did it bother me so much?_

Just then, Stormee walked into the house, shrugging off her jacket. She looked a bit off. I looked at Dean. "What else happened that you're not telling me?" Dean looked like he broke our father's favorite gun or something; so scared and…caught. Then an icy resolve came over his face and he smiled.

"Nothin', Sammy. What'd you cook?"

Dean's P.O.V.

I really did it. Wow. I had kissed her. Why?

 _Don't say you didn't like it,_ I thought.

"What else happened that you're not telling me?" _A. Lot. Oh, shit, he figured out that I kissed her. What am I gonna do?_ Stormee just stood there, looking around. I bit back those thoughts. _You're a hunter, Dean, control yourself._

I smiled. "Nothin', Sammy. What'd you cook?" I started towards the kitchen as Sam said, "Spaghetti." Stormee literally 'stormed' by me and grabbed a plate. She filled it up and sat at the table.

I grabbed three beers from the fridge and set them on the table. Sam eyed me warily but grabbed his own plate and sat down. Stormee opened up her beer with a, "Yesssss…" And I laughed a little and sat down without a plate.

I wasn't hungry and was getting to much a kick watching as Stormee's alcohol she took in earlier settled and started to affect her. "Where's your plate, Dean?" Sam asked. Stormee didn't join the conversation, just looked up as she shoveled food into her mouth.

That's what I would have been doing right now; if my stomach wasn't doing flip-flops like it had been since I left Stormee in the car. "Dean?" Sam asked. I realized that I hadn't answered him.

"Oh, I'm not hungry right now, Sammy." He eyed me. "You're lying, now eat some spaghetti."

"No, Sam, I'm really not hungry. He pushed on, "Dean, eat some damn spaghetti."

"No," I insisted, "Not freaking hungry, Sam." He was riled up now and Stormee found it funny. She had looked up again, eyes filled with laughter. She looked so cute. _Whoa, whoa, whoa, Dean, slow down._

"EAT. MY. SPAGHETTI." Sam growled. "Okay," I said, putting on a wise-ass smile. I grabbed _his_ plate and started chowing down.


	12. Off to Bed Now

Stormee's P.O.V.

"Yesssss…" Dean handed me a beer at the table. I could feel a slight buzz coming on from the shots earlier. _Taken you long enough._ Why isn't Dean eating? He looks like a guy who could put a few plates away but he didn't even have _one._ I wanted to give him some of mine but it was too damn good.

"Where's your plate, Dean?" Sam asked, "Dean?" Dean hadn't responded, he was staring…at me. "Oh, I'm not hungry right now, Sammy."

"You're lying, now eat some spaghetti." He replied. Dean looked away from Sam. "No, Sam, I'm really not hungry. Sam went on, "Dean, eat some damn spaghetti."

"No," Dean said, "Not freaking hungry, Sam." Sam got mad. I didn't know if this was just a little argument or the beginning of a brawl. I just giggled. Sam was mad and persistent and Dean was cocky and stubborn.

"EAT. MY. SPAGHETTI." Sam basically roared. "Okay," was Dean's reply. Dean grabbed Sam's plate and started to devour the homemade spaghetti.

I cracked up so badly. I laughed so hard, running out of hair. I almost knocked my beer over. Dean was so cool. And he was really, really, hot. But Sam…Sam was cute. He was sweet. He brightened the room.

Then again…Dean…Dean was the hottest guy ever. Not in the beautiful or gorgeous way. But in the sexy, rugged way. The typical bad-boy type. God, these guys really are brothers. Two different versions of men. I eyed Sam grabbing another plate of spaghetti. And again, I felt that urge to be close to him. If this urge had lasted this long, it could hold on for a day or two 'til I could explore it.

Right now, I wanted to pursue the bad-boy…if I could ever stop laughing.

Sam's P.O.V.

I got up and grabbed a new plate. She busted out laughing. I couldn't help myself; I started up too. Soon, we were all laughing; hard and loud.

"What are y'all idjits laughing about?" Bobby grumbled groggily from the kitchen doorway. After I had calmed myself down, I answered him. "Nothin', Bobby, sorry if we woke you up."

He eyed us skeptically. "Whatever. Uh, I'm headin' out at 6:00 in the morning to go see a few other hunters a couple towns over. We're gonna do some searchin' around about a case and I'm guessin' y'all are gonna stay here for a couple of days?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess," Dean said, after he downed a massive bite of spaghetti. "If it's okay, I mean, while you're gone?"

"You know it is boys, and Stormee. Just don't burn down my house." Bobby grabbed himself a small helping and made his way back to his room. "See y'all in a couple of days," he called from the stairs.

I contemplated doing more research after I ate, or crashing. Sleep won out. I gave a 'Good-night, guys,' to Stormee and Dean, earning a 'Hey, I'm not a guy,' from the beer-induced Stormee. I rinsed my plate off, got my laptop from the living room and headed upstairs to my recently chosen guest room.

Bobby had like _three_. I changed out of my button-up and jeans and into a tee-shirt and basketball shorts. I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.


	13. Caught Wrapped Up in You

Dean's P.O.V.

After Sam left, I told Stormee she could pick her own guest room and I'd just take the leftover one. I don't know why, but she was still giggling. _Now or never…_

"Hey, um, I'm sorry about earlier…in the car…"

She shot up from the table, stopped giggling instantly, and kissed me hard.

"Don't be…" She said softly, walking out of the kitchen.

I bet I was wide-eyed right then, standing completely still. I grabbed our plates, rinsed 'em off and threw our empty beers in the trash. I made my way upstairs and saw a light under one of the guest room's doors so I walked to the one down the hall only to hear Sam snoring through the door.

I went to the last one which was by the bathroom and made my way inside. I was so tired I just left the light off, stripped out of my blue jean jacket, tee-shirt and jeans and jumped into bed. I stared at the ceiling until sleep decided to take me away.

I awoke to the sound of strangled breaths and gagging.

"What the hell?" I mumbled. I rolled over and looked at the clock by the bed and groaned. It read 9:46. I got out of bed and thankfully remembered that I just had boxers on so I slipped on my jeans from last night; I left the shirt off.

I started out of my room and could make out gasping and vomiting. _Yuck._ I walked over to the guest bathroom and saw that Stormee's door was open on the other side. Sam's door was still shut.

"Uh, Stormee, are you okay?" There was no reply, but the noises stopped. All I could hear was running water; nothing else. "Stormee, can you hear me?" Still, no reply.

I tried the door, but it was locked. I panicked. _What's going on in there?_ "Stormee!"

 _Oh, God, I hope she's decent,_ I thought. Then, I kicked open the door, surprisingly without much sound. _I'm too damn good at this…_

She looked up at me from the sink, mouth full of water and dripping; wide-eyed. "What the hell? Stormee, I was callin' to see if you were okay!" I exclaimed.

She spit the water out and said, "How can I reply with water in my mouth and please don't talk to loud," _Oh, shit, she's hung-over…and it's my fault…Thank God Bobby's already gone._

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just a little hung-over…" she trailed off.

"Oh, I got just the remedy for that." I said and sped off downstairs. While I was gathering the stuff from the kitchen I fully took in the scene in the bathroom…

_Dark black hair, slightly messy. A light blue tank top, that was a little too small for her. White silk boxers/boy shorts with red hearts and a lace trim. Long smooth tan legs. God, she looks good. Damnit! Dean, get a hold of yourself._

"Dean?" someone called from the doorway. I look in the direction of the voice and realize that I haven't been getting the stuff. I've been leaning against the counter, staring off into space.

"Uh, yeah, what is it, Stormee?" _Why do I sound so worried?_

"I just wanted to come down here and see what you were doing." She started walking over towards the table but her legs started buckling. I was there before she knew what was happened.

"Shit," she muttered as she started falling. I zoomed over and caught her around the waist. I pulled her up.

"Thanks, Deano." She said, breathless from surprise and the scare of falling. I looked up and our eyes met. There was something pulling me into those eyes.

"Anytime, Storm." I said and we stood. Just like that, for what seemed like hours. My arms around her waist. My back arched slightly forwards, hers slightly back. Face to face. And me shirtless... _There's just something about her_ , I thought.

"Ah-hem." The sound of a cleared throat.

…Sam was up…


	14. Mmm, Bacon and Visions

**Author's Note: Sorry for the delay...writers block and its Christmas break...spending all my time with my 'Carter' lol, but anyways. I'm changing Stormee's age to where she's 18 now, so that means she would have been 16 when Carter was taken. And how Car had just turned 16, I'm gonna make it to where he's 19 now, just a year older than Sam and Storm. So, he might be turning 20 soon...which makes me think he's a pedo bear because of who he is based off of. lol...Sorry for the loooong authors note but i just had to explain myself...dont want my readers to hate me...Anyway, hope yall like this installment. Please Review and feel free to contact me about anything. Bye :D**

**~CalicoKahlia**

* * *

Stormee's P.O.V.

_It's been like, five minutes,_ I thought to myself. Dean and I have just been standing here in the kitchen, basically holding each other.

An 'ah-hem' from the doorway behind me caused Dean to jump back, letting me go. The pain that had somehow subsided with his touch came rushing back. I gripped the chair to my right and made to turn to the doorway. I almost fell again but Dean pulled me into the chair before I could collide with the floor.

"Damn hangover," I muttered. I looked to the doorway, my head starting to pound again. Sam stood in the entry, wide-eyed.

"She's a little hungover…" Dean said to Sam.

Sam looked at Dean, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. The look seemed to say 'We'll talk later.' "Well, fix her that thing you always use, then," Sam said.

"Dude," Dean replied, palms up, at his sides as he motioned to a few things on the counter behind him, "What's it look like I'm doing?"

Sam shook his head and took a seat at the opposite end of the table.

"Dean," I mumbled.

"I'm getting it, Storm, just hold on," he said to me.

"O-okay…" was my reply. I looked at Sam, who was staring at me intently.

"You okay? How bad is it?" Sam asked, leaning forward.

"Eh…" I murmured. He looked worried.

"Here ya go, Storm," Dean said as he slid a glass of what looked like brownish, yellowish sludge onto the table in front of me.

"Ugh," I said and picked it up. It smelled horrible but I gulped it down. It tasted worse.

"Bleh," I said as I finished the glass of disgust incarnate and set it on the table. Sam chuckled and Dean shot him a look.

"Shut up, bitch."

"Make me, jerk." Sam said. Dean chuckled himself.

 _Is this their form of brotherly love? Calling each other names? Ha, cute,_ I thought.

"Who's up for bacon and eggs?" Dean asked with a grin.

"Not if you're cookin' it," Sam said as he stood up. He went over to the fridge and grabbed a few things as Dean sat down beside me looking accomplished.

A few minutes later, the aroma and sound of bacon cooking wafted around us and my headache started to ebb. Sam opened a cabinet door and grabbed three plates. He piled them with bacon and eggs and some toast before setting them before the three of us.

"Mmm…" Dean hummed as he basically inhaled a piece of bacon. I started to dig in. God, Sam can cook.

"So, what's this hunt that Bobby's out of town for?" Sam asked Dean.

"I dunno."

"Well, I'll call him in a bit to see if he needs any help research—" _Thunk._

Sam's head hit the floor as he slumped from his chair. Dean was up in a flash, kneeling over Sam who had started convulsing.

"Dean!" Sam called, "Ahh!" He grabbed at his head.

"Sam. Sam!" Dean shouted, "Sammy, can you hear me? Come on; snap out of it, man!"

I unfroze and stood, walking over to Dean and the writhing Sam. Dean was shaking the shit out of Sam's shoulders.

"What's going on?" I asked, completely stunned at what was happening. _Does Sam have seizures or something?_

"Dean! Oh, God, Dean!" Sam called out again, eyes clenched shut, body shaking and flexing in pain. Dean looked up at me and what he said pulled me out of my stupor.

"He's having a vision." Dean said blatantly; devoid of any emotion, as if this was normal.

"A _what_?"


	15. Save Yourself, For Me

Sam's P.O.V.

_Bright flashes. Fading screams. I can hear Dean calling out for me, a million miles away. My eyes are clenched shut. I can feel my brain slicing itself open. But, none of the familiar pain of an oncoming vision prepares me for what I see next._

_"Help, Sam!" Stormee calls from the second landing. We're in a warehouse, full of demons._

_Stormee is clutching a rusted old railing, bleeding profusely from her temple._

_"Sam! He's coming! Help m-!" I race forward, towards the stairwell to her left as she is deftly flung over the railing._

_"Stormee!" I scream as her body makes contact with the gray, lifeless concrete below. I sprint to her and hold her in my arms._

_"Sam, it's not your fault. None of it is. Save yourself from him. For me, Sam. For me..." She trails off as her body goes limp and eyes grow distant. She's gone. And I can barely see past the tears in my eyes. I look up to the second landing, and gaze upon the yellow-eyed monster who caused her demise._

_He smiles at me and my tears are a free-fall, glancing her cheeks in a last goodbye. I clutch her to me as the dead, cold concrete below us is stained red._

Stormee's P.O.V.

I pull myself down to them and lay a hand on Sam's shaking shoulder.

"How can I help?" I hear myself ask.

"We can't really do anything until he snaps out of it. So, just wait. And try not to let him bite his tongue off." Dean says.

"So, what is it with these visions?" I ask.

"Let's just say that Sam and Carter are from the same part of town."

Sam gasps, a deep breath of realization and relief, as he opens his eyes.

I remove my hand as he pulls his arm up, rubbing his temple.

He looks over to me and his eyes grow sad and distant, then scared and angry. How can one guy show so much emotion and so many at one time, with just the look of his eyes and a little furrow in his brow?

"No. No, no, no..." He says and looks down.

"What happened, Sammy. What did you see?" Dean asks, worried.

"Can we talk alone?" Sam asks, avoiding my gaze.

Dean starts to pull him off of the floor and I shoot up as well.

"Yeah, come on, Sam." Dean lets Sam adjust to the change of elevation and starts towards the door.

"Sorry, Stormee. We'll get back to you. Sam's just, ya know, used to only talking about this to me. And I'm sorry you had to find out like this."

"No, no. It's alright. I'll just clean up in here. Y'all two go talk." I say, feigning nonchalance. Inside I'm freaking out. Sam has visions, like Carter had his own powers. Does yellow-eyes have something to do with Sam, too? What if he tries to take Sam, like he took Car?

Dean nods and Sam just looks at the floor. What did he see? Why can't he talk about it in front of me?

Dean leads himself and Sam out of the door and out of my line of vision.

I pick up the plates from the tables, raking any extras into the trashcan and set them into the sink.

I need to find out what just happened and what Sam had a vision of. If it is the last thing I do.

Dean's P.O.V.

I lead Sam into the living room and set him down on the couch in a heap. I plop down beside him and give him a look that says 'Tell me now, or I'm going to murder you in your sleep.' At least, that's what I hope it says.

"What'd you see, and why can't you say it in front of her?"

"Because it was about her..." Sam trails off.

"Talk to me, man. Tell me what happened." I say, trying to be comforting.

Then, he lays it on me. The warehouse, the demons, Stormee falling, well, being thrown, her last words, Sam's tears, yellow-eyes, the blood, him...holding her. That last one stops my thoughts. My stomach turns and my mind is flaring with jealousy.

Sam being the last one to be with her when she dies? Well, we won't let that happen. My mind is racing. Part of me seething and wanting to rip Sam apart, part of me worshiping his existence and visions helping us be able to prevent the death of the girl I love.

Girl I love? What the fuck? We barely know each other, Dean! I scream at myself, in my head of course.

"What are we going to do, Dean?" Sam asks me, as I zone back into reality.

"Everything we can, Sam. He's not going to get Stormee. She is _not_ going to die. But...we have to tell her."

I pull myself up from the couch, and head into the hallway to the kitchen. I hope I won't regret this.

"Stormee," I say as I enter the kitchen, hearing Sam behind me. "We need to talk. The vision...it was about you..."

My mind is reeling...how can I be subtle about this?


	16. Some Undercover Work

Dean's P.O.V.

"Lets start this from the beginning," I say as I take a seat at the table, Sam doing the same. I motion for Stormee to bring herself to a seat and she tries to calm her slightly shaking hands.

"When I was four, and Sam was six months old, our mother, Mary, was killed. Most likely like Carter's; pinned to the ceiling in his nursery, bleeding from the stomach, then engulfed in fire." I swallow and Sam plays with his hands. Stormee finally take a seat and meets my eyes. I continue.

"You see, our mother walked into Sam's room and unknowingly caught a demon dripping his blood into Sam's mouth." As if on cue, Sam wiped his lips, yet kept his eyes glued to the ugly yellow table.

"Not too long ago, we found that Sam isn't your normal little boy scout," I said, earning a small glare from Sam. "He started dreaming these odd little happenings that started to show up in the papers. Then, he started having them when he was awake. Splitting headaches and migraines that we thought were benign turned into the visions he has now.

"So far, we've concurred that his visions are usually tied to other 'special children' or yellow-eyes himself. Ever since Mary died, John, our father, whom you already know, has been hell-bent on revenge or retribution or whatever he wants to call it. I can say that I do want that Hell spawn dead, Sammy, here, does too. But, Dad drug us into this and he isn't going to stop until he has that demon's head on a spit."

I take a deep breath, calming myself and trying to sift through my brain matter and find whatever else she needs to know. She still has her eyes trained on me, boring themselves inside my mind. I chance a look at Sam and he's still finding the table too damn interesting to look away from.

"Yellow-eyes did the same to Carter when he was a baby. Filled him, Sam, and a whole lot of others up with the filthy demon juice. Now, dad's away looking into leads on what might be a path set-straight to this demon and killin' as many evil things as he can. And me and Sam...we just stick together. Goin' on hunts and dealin' with his new 'insight.'

"Now," I say as I bore my eyes into the side of Sam's head. "Sam can tell you about his vision."

* * *

**-Time Break-**

* * *

He tells her, much like he laid it on me. And she sits there and takes it all in. As if this was just a story he concocted in his young mind.

"So, what do we do?" She asks and I'm taken from my thoughts and brought back into reality. Whatever reality we live in. Where monsters are real and 'taking it easy' is ganking a vampire or a simple salt'n'burn.

"Avoid warehouses?" I ask, half-serious.

"Dean, you know it's not that simple. Nothing ever is..." Sam says. You can hear the resentment of our job and the sadness and lonliness that comes with it.

"I second that. Not easy, never simple. But, hey, thats the job description. So, we'll just have to suck it up and grow some balls," she states and smiles, easing the tension in the room.

One smile, and the room is all too bright. All too real. And all too simple and easy. One smile, as if just meant for me, as endearing as and 'I love you,' or a gentle hand to hold, shoulder to cry on, ear to talk to. One smile is all it takes to get me back in the game.

God, my head is having a chick-flick moment. Worthy of any Oscar, Emmy or whatever award they give this girly shit.

I make to get up from the table and turn to Sam.

"Well, what are you doing, Sammy? Ya gonna sit there like a bitch or are ya gonna find us a case?" I say, smiling.

He glares at me and gets up. "Whatever, jerk." He replies as he leaves the room.

"I'm itchin' to get back in the game. So, I'm gonna go take a shower and when I get done, if y'all haven't found a hunt, you're going to wish I was stil hungover, Deano." She smirks and exits the room.

I find myself smiling as I make my way into the hallway, in search of Sam. I hear footsteps bounce up the stairs and then louder ones clomber down a few moments later.

Sam turns off the stairs and heads into the living room where I walk to. Before he gets a chance to sit on the couch I throw myself over the side and lay full-out, arms behind my head, bent at the elbows. I look up at a perfect display of his 'bitch face.'

I chuckle and pull myself up. He sits himself down beside me and sets his open laptop on his legs. I grab the remote and start channel surfing. A few minutes later Sam starts talking and I pull my mind away from the bikini models on the _Surf!_ channel.

"What?" I growl.

"I found a case, Dean. Now stop eyeing the jail-bait on T.V. and listen."

I turn of the set begrudgingly and turn to my younger brother.

"What'd you find?" I ask.

"Over in Reno, Nevada. There are some disappearances. All men, all around the same age and get this: all went to the same strip-joint the night before they disappeared."

My mood brightens. A hunt at a stip-club. Awesome.

"I know what your thinking, and, Dean, it's not going to happen. You would get too distracted," Sam says and it wipes the smirk from my face. That bitch! He picked that one on purpose!

"Looks like you'll need and inside man, well, woman," a voice says from behind us.

We both turn and Stormee's standing in the doorway, decked out in just a towel. Her hair is wet and tangled and drops of water still cling to her skin.

I recover from my 'holy shit' moment and eye her skeptically.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Just what you think," she smiles. "I'm gonna be a stripper!" She laughs and Sam laughs a bit too. My mood darkened.

"No, you are not!" I hear myself say.

"Your not my 'daddy' and I'm a consenting adult. And it's just for a case. It's not like I'll be on the corner." She says.

"She's right, Dean. It's not a big deal." Sam says and I scowl. He's still smiling; obviously amused at this.

"Whatever," I say, "But, when guys start fondling you and sticking bills in your g-string don't come crying to me."

"I think I can handle myself," she smirks and puts her hands on her hips. "So, did you find a case?" She eyes me and Sam and I fill her in.

"So, pack some things, road trip to Nevada." Sam says as she bounces back upstairs.

He turns to me.

"So, what are we gonna do when we get there? Besides the whole 'Stormee the stipper' thing?" He asks.

I get up from the couch and make to head upstairs. I call to him over my shoulder.

"How 'bout we kill some evil sons of bitches and we raise a little hell?"


	17. Bad Dreams and Bunk Mates

Stormee's P.O.V.

_"Stormee, come to me. I need you," Carter says to me, with a glint of something other than need in his eyes. I can't make out the sliver of the other emotion. Somethings not right. We are in a dark room. Or just a dark abyss. Nothing around us but colorless space. Devoid of all light. Anything bright snuffed out. Carter's normally blue eyes, reflecting the color of the emptiness around us._

_"Where are you? Where have you been?" I shout, tears stinging themselves in my eyes. Refusing their pleas to fall down my cheeks. His whole demeanor changes. And the glint that was so tiny in his sad, needy, helpless eyes, grows bigger; encasing it all._

_"Just come to me. That's all you have to do," he says, impatient. "Come with me, and be what I am. Be my queen and no one can look down on you. You can be everything I am. Ruler to the darkness. By my side. Just come with me. Leave the good behind. Leave it behind. All of it."_

_"What do you mean? What's happened to you?"_

_"I've found my place. Soon, Sam will find his."_

_He looks so...gone. Not him, anymore. And I fight the urge to run. He seems okay with whatever change has happened to him._

_"What? What about Sam?"_

_"Azazel will save him, too. Like he saved me."_

_"Who is Azazel? Carter, just come back from wherever you have gone. I need you! Come home to me!"_

_He starts dissipating, evil encompassing every molecule that is the Carter I once knew. The tears start falling. Ready for him to leave me again._

_"You know him as yellow-eyes. And, Stormee. Don't worry. I am home..."_

I jolt awake with a gasp. The tears that were drowning me in my dreams somehow finding their way into reality, in small little pools of salty warmth, embracing my cheeks as they dry.

I'm in the backseat of the Impala. Dean is driving, with _Highway to Hell_ playing at medium-volume through the cars speakers. Sam is in shotgun, paging through their father's journal. I scoot to the middle of the seat, lean up towards them both, and turn my sore neck to Dean.

"I'm hungry. Feed me," I say, a bit groggily from sleep. I pass the dream of Carter off as something to do with stress.

"We're about ten miles from a gas stop, so we can pick up some chips and junk there. And pie!" He exclaims cheerfully. Sam shakes his head and sighs, with a small smil playing on his lips. I turn my head to Sam and crane my neck to see what page he is reading. He looks up at me as I study the page. He seems to study my face intently.

"Stormee, what's wrong?" He asks, under the music, as so Dean doesn't hear.

"Uh, nothing?" I say, feigning confusion as he eyes me.

"I'm not blind. You have tear tracks."

"Oh, just a dream," I say, looking down, then back up to him.

"You can talk to me, ya know," he says, comfort lacing every word.

I smile, a sad and distant one.

"I know," I say as I slide back into the seat, staring out the window at the fields passing until we pull into a little lot.

The lot belongs to a ramshackle of a place. Two very out-dated gas pumps sit in front of an old and small shed-like structure. With long, dusty windows up front, home to a chipping, painted sign saying 'Open'.

Dean pulls in front of one of the pumps and we get out, gathering near the back of the car.

"Sam, you know what to get, and twenty for the pump," Dean says and nods toward the gas station. Sam starts to walk inside and I walk up beside him.

"You coming with?" He asks, looking at the bills he's pulling from the old leather wallet that he dug out of his back pocket.

"Yupp," I say, popping the 'p'.

He walks a little faster, which is easy for him with his long ass legs and I struggle to keep up but fail, then realize what he's doing. He stops in front of the glass and metal door and holds it open for me. I walk in and eye the store around me.

There are a few long shelves, making aisles, with an assortment of chips, candy, motor oil and everything in between lining them. A row of glass doors, holding in the cold for drinks and ice and beer line the back wall, next to an old wooden door with a gold handle. Sam starts down the first aisle, picking up miscellaneous snacks on his way.

I turn and look behind me at the counter that is to the right when your walking in the door. No one sits at the old stool that is behind it and an old-style radio is playing some old, fifties, love song; complete with static. I turn back and try to catch up with Sam who is alread turning at the end of this aisle and into the one on the other side.

"Hey-oh, wait up!" I call, even though he's not more than eight feet away. He turns and almost knocks over an almost empty rack of chips and cross-word puzzle books. He stops it's wobbling and looks to where I am, heading towards him.

"Sorry," he says. I turn to my right, now at the middle of the aisle and pick up a package of Ding-Dongs and a bag of Doritos. I turn back to Sam, who is still stalled between the two and rear my arm back to throw the Ding-Dongs at him. His eyes go wide, with a hint of laughter in them then the laughter stops short and his eyes are just wide.

As I'm moving my hand to throw it back forward and release my snack at Sam, a hand roughly catches my elbow. I drop the chips and swing around, breaking out of the grip. A rugged looking man, about thirty, stands before, greasy and dirty and stubbly.

"Hey, watch it, man," I say, and he retorts.

"My store. No horsing around. And you break it, you buy it." He eyes me and smiles. His teeth are an odd mix of green, yellow and brown and I fight the urge to make a gagging noise. He then moves a strand of hair out of my face with a dirty finger.

"Well," the man says, "If ya did manage to break something, you could find a different way to repay me."

Sam is suddenly beside me, all the playfulness from earlier gone. He eyes the man and it seems he's sizing him up, ready for anything.

"Drop it, dude," Sam says, and the man just laughs.

The man then eyes my chest, playing with the lapel of my jacket. I'm frozen, chancing a look out the window to my right, seeing Dean outside, nodding his head to what I guess is music coming from the car he is filling up, oblivious to the drama unfolding inside.

"What are you gonna do about it?" The man says, still laughing a little. I look back to the man as Sam reacts.

"This," Sam says, taking the mans wrist that is attached to the hand still fingering my jacket, bending it behind him and putting his other hand on the back of the man's neck, forcing him to face the shelf and banging his head onto the metallic surface and letting him fall to the floor, unconscious.

Sam then picks up the stuff he was carrying, throws a handful of cash onto the floor beside the man. He grabs by arm, gently and starts walking towards the door.

I'm astonished at what just happened. I thought Dean would be the one to go all Rambo and beat people up. But, I'm thankful all the same.

"Thanks," I say, walking beside him to the car.

"Yeah," he says, distantly.

We make it to the car and Dean's inside, thrumming the beat to the music on the steering wheel. Sam opens the back door, much to his uncomfort with him carrying all the snacks. I slip inside and he sits the stuff on the seat next to me. He closes the door and gets in up front. Dean turns around, seeming to just now realize that we're back.

He eyes the snacks laid out in the seat beside me and then he turns on Sam.

"Dude, where's the pie?" He asks Sam, wide-eyed.

"Sorry, got caught up in something." Sam replies, staring out the windshield.

I stay silent as Dean says, "Whatever," puts the car in drive, and drives out of the lot. Guess what just happened is gonna be our little secret. I open the Ding-Dongs I've been unknowingly clenching and start to stuff one of them in my mouth.

A few hours later, we are met by a 'Welcome to Reno!' sign and I sigh.

After a couple minutes on the outskirts of town, we find ourselves under another town sign. This one neon, and colorful, portraying 'The Biggest Little City in the World'.

Metallic hums through the speakers and Dean pulls into a small, one-floor motel. Sam leaves the car, heading to book the rooms.

"Hey, Storm, throw me a Twinkie," Dean says and I relent, gladly. I grab a Twinkie from the seat and chunk it at the back of his head. He turns around, shock, as he grabs the almost-smooshed Twinkie from where it landed in the passenger's seat.

"What was that for?" He exclaims.

"You said, throw you one," I smile, tearing open my bag of Doritos.

Sam returns from the front office with a grimace on his face.

"What's wrong, Sammy?" Dean asks, eying Sam suspiciously.

He gets in and sifts through his wallet.

"Our credit cards are maxed, and I left my two new ones at Bobby's. Only have enough cash for one room."

"Looks like someones getting a bunk-mate tonight," I say as I lean up between the front seats.

Sam goes back inside and Dean smirks. He comes back with a room key, labeled '35' and we get our bags from the trunk.

I head straight for the bathroom, once inside and eye my reflection. I shout to the guys that I'm gonna take a shower. I undress and climb in, after waiting for the water to heat up.

The water pours down in streams as I pick up and unwrap a bar of motel soap, throwing the paper wrapping onto the floor outside the shower stall.

I lather up, washing the days filth away, using the little bottles of shampoo and condition to clean my hair. I rise off and step out onto the linoleum floor, grabbing a towel and rubbing and patting myself partially dry. After I rub my hair to where it isn't soaked I wrap the towel around my body, silently berating myself for forgetting to grab my bag.

I open the door to the outside room and step into the cold air that meets me on the other side. I run over to the bed farthest from the door where I threw by bag earlier and where Sam now sits. He is eyeing the television that Dean holds the remote to, on the other bed. They both look up after a moment.

I open my bag and grab my pajama shorts and try and find a clean tank top. I should have washed my clothes before we left Bobby's.

"Um, guys. I have a problem." I say, looking up to meet their gazes.

"Oh, don't say that. I'm definitely not going and buying any tampons!" Dean says, eyes wide with fear.

I laugh and Sam just hides a small smile.

"No, not that kind of problem," I say and smile. "I kinda don't have any clean shirts."

Dean turns his head back to the T.V. and I roll my eyes. Sam leans up from the headboard and swings his legs off. He gets up and crosses the room to the small, chipping, wooden table that sits in the corner to the left of the television set. He opens a bag, to what I guess is his stuff and throws me a blue fitted tee.

"Thanks, Sam," I say as I make my way back into the bathroom with the clothing. I dry myself off the rest of the way and throw on my underwear and bra. I eye Sam's shirt that sits on the sink. I throw it over my head and it's length goes a little above mid-thigh.

Ah, screw the shorts, it's hot in here anyway. I walk out, my clothes from earlier, accompanied by my shorts, in my hand. Dean eyes me, just in Sam's tee shirt and smiles before turning his attention back to the show on T.V.

Sam looks up as I put my clothes back in the bag, looking slightly uncomfortable.

"Oh, it's not like there's a monster under there!" I say, smiling. "So, who's with who tonight? I was thinking y'all two over there, me over here?"

"Oh, no," Dean says, "Me and Sammy haven't slept in the same bed since he was eight. But, you can come over here and give me a little company." He winks and I laugh.

"I'm good. I don't think 'Sammy' here will fondle me in my sleep so, scoot over, Sasquatch," I smile and Sam just does as told. Dean gets up and heads to the bathroom as I crawl in next to Sam, who must've changed while I was. He's now in sweats and a white tee.

I try to slide under the covers but, his weight on top of them was refusing to let me. I tug on the covers, alerting Sam of the dilemma. He rolls off the side as I slip under. He grabs my bag that still sits on the end of the bed and sits it next to his. He grabs the remote off of Dean's bed, turns the set down and goes to open another duffel, this one at the ends of the other bed.

He pulls out a salt tin and lays lines on the threshold of the door and window. He then turns out the dual lamps mounted on the wall, leaving the room illuminated only by the T.V. and the glow from streetlamps, dimly coming through the window's curtain. I open up the covers for him to get under and he climbs in.

I lean up and fluff my pillow, rolling onto my stomach, and bending my left leg outwards. My knee collided with Sam's hip and he scooted more towards the edge. I sit up, in mock astonishment.

"You think my knees going to kill you? Scoot back over here before you fall off the bed!"

He does, with an uncomfortable smile.

"Have you never slept in the same bed as a girl?" I ask, smiling.

"Uh, no, not really. Dean brings the girls home," he said.

"Well, it's not that different from sleeping with anyone else, I guess. Girls usually roll around alot though, and throw their legs over you. So, don't be scared if I sleep roll. Kay?" I say.

"Uh, okay?" He says, confused.

I laugh a little and slide back down. I hear Dean come out of the bathroom and jump into bed. I peek an eye open and he's just wearing boxers. Well, at least Sam has a little manners. I smile inwardly though, liking the sight. I let my eye fall back closed and will myself to dream something good tonight. No such luck.

_"Stormee," he says, slightly angry. "Why haven't you come to me?"_

_We're in the abyss again and I'm not in the mood to deal with the Not-Carter that my mind created._

_"One, because I don't know where you are. And two, because this is just a dream."_

_"What makes you think that this is just a dream? You know what I can do. And I have gotten better. You'll see," Not-Carter says. His eyes a stil the same black. Like a demon and I can't help but cry on the inside._

_"What has become of you?" I ask, "You used to be sweet, and loving and all I ever wanted, and now, I dream of you being this. Black-eyed, and dark."_

_His eyes return to the pools of blue that I used to lose myself in._

_"This isn't a creation of your subconscious. This is me, now. A better, improved me. I found my calling, just like Sam will."_

_"You keep mentioning Sam. Finding his calling and his place. What does that even mean?"_

_"You will find out soon enough. Now, Stormee, I need you to come find me, to come with me and stay. I need you here. To help me rule and help me and Azazel and Sam and everyone else to lead the army," Not-Carter says, eyes growing black again._

_"Carter, just come back to me. I need you. You've been gone for two fucking years! Just come home!" I say, not fighting the tears now._

_"I am home. And when you get here, you will be too. And I cannot come back. If I wanted to, I still couldn't. You will come home to, and you can never leave," He says, fading once again._

_"Carter! Don't leave me!" I scream, tears drowning me once again._

I roll around sobbing. I'm back in bed, in the flea-bag motel. Dean in one bed and Sam next to me, in mine. I try to bite back the whimpers and sobs that rack my chest. Tears stream down my cheeks and I frantically wipe them away. I can hear snoring from across the room and it must be Dean. I chance a look through bleary eyes at Sam and another sob escapes; this one causing his eyes to flutter open.

Worry creases his brow and his right hand shoots up to wipe my cheeks.

"What's wrong?" He whispers.

"Just another dream," I say, trying to stop crying but failing. My body is shaking with the tears and whimpers. Sam pulls me into him and my head rests on the crook of his neck, where it meets his shoulder. Sometime during his sleep his turned onto his left side, facing me.

I cry into him and his left arm comes around my shoulders burying itself in my hair, smoothing it and gently rocking me.

"Shh, it's okay. It was just a dream, Storm, it was just a dream."

And I drift back off like that. In Sam's arms. Rocking gently with tears absorbing into his shirt. I fell into a deep sleep. The best sleep I had had in two years.


	18. Waking Up to You and Gettin' The Job

Stormee's P.O.V.

I wake up, opening my eyes to a light that filters through a crack in between the curtain and the wall. There's something heavy around my shoulder and it seems my pillow was traded for something hard yet comfortable. I look upwards and see Sam's face. His head is slightly leaned downwards towards the top of my head.

Upon further inspection, its his arm that rests over me, hand splayed over mine on his stomach. And my pillow is behind me now, lying dormant because of Sam's chest. I smile and close my eyes, finding peace where I am laying.

I'm thinking, as I lie on Sam's chest, what the day will bring. What I'm going to wear and say when I apply for a job as a stripper. That brings a smile to my face. This day was going to be fun. Yet, I would kind of be self-concious. I sigh, content and erase the thoughts from my mind. I open my eye to sneek a look at the red, glowing numbers of the cheap alarm clock on the night table between the two beds. 5:54, it blinks at me as it changes to 5:55.

Sam shifts under me and I quickly close my eyes. Why was I pretending to be asleep? I smile again, for no reason. I guess for feeling Sam's arm tighten around me. I squeeze one eye open, to see if Sam was still asleep, only to me his eyes.

"Good morning, sleepy-head," he smiles down at me. "You feelin' any better?"

I recall the happenings of last night. Falling asleep, dreaming of Carter, waking up crying, and falling asleep again, with Sam holding me. I actually did feel better. It seemed Sam had soothed the aching, holding me in his arms.

"Actually, yeah. Thank you, again, Sam," I say, smiling and leaning into his chest.

"Don't worry about it. I'm always here, Storm," he says and rolls slightly to his left, into me, leaning his head down, face in my hair. I feel my hair move with his smile.

"Oh, my god!" I whisper, moving away from him. His eyes grow wide with worry.

"What is it? Are you okay?" He asks, sitting up. I scramble towards the end of the bed, crawling, kind of. I forgot I just had his shirt on, and I could feel the air on my hips. My pink underwear was showing. Sam's over-sized shirt had ridden up. I slid off the bed and looked back at him.

"I gotta pee!" I said as I ran off to the bathroom, just barely catching his small smile and chuckle.

I ran inside and barely shut the door, leaving a little crack. I jumped to the toilet. After I peed I looked myself over in the mirror, smoothing my hair from last nights damage. I went out of the bathroom and climbed back onto the bed and under the covers next to Sam, who was looking at the fabric, thinking distantly. He looked up at me and cracked a smile, instantly brightening the room.

"So, what time does Dean usually wake up?" I ask.

"Around nine or ten. Do ya wanna get dressed and go get something to eat? I can probably lift one of Dean's cards. I know he has some. He just didn't say anything about it when we had to get one room because he was jumping at the chance to get in bed with you," he laughed bitterly.

"Uh, yeah, sure. Uh, go pee or something. Take a shower. I'll just fix up in here," I say and he gets off the bed. He smiles at me as he grabs a few things from his back and heads into the room I had just vacated.

I get out of bed and pop my neck. I know, it's kinda gross, but it feels good. I head over to the table and open my bag. After searching for something semi-clean, I pull on my jeans. The ones I wore to the bar with Dean. I decide not to fix myself all up like I usually would, so I leave on Sam's shirt and grab my purse. I hear the water start running from the shower and pull out two pony-tail holders from a zipper pocket. I put one around the hem of the shirt, tightening it around me and holding it up a bit, then tuck it in. With the other, I pull my hair up into a messy bun-like thing; stray hairs falling about my chestnut head and my bangs falling freely. I sit on the edge of the bed and sift through my purse for anything useful. I pull out some clear lip gloss and apply for no apparent reason other than boredem.

The water shuts off and Sam emerges from the bathroom a few moments later; hair damp and pulling a shirt over his head. He pulls the fitted gray tee down, but not before I catch a glimpse of tanned muscle underneath. He smiles at me and sits down, pulling on some socks and sliding his boots over them. I get up and put on some tennis shoes from my duffel and stand, waiting for Sam to say something. After about twenty-three seconds, not that I was counting, he did.

"You ready?" He asks and I nod. "Then lets go." He smiles and we quietly slip through the door to the motel, but not before Sam got one of Dean's fake credit cards and the keys to the Impala.

We get the car and Sam starts it up. He pulls out of the lot in search of a diner or some like place. We pull into a small parking lot of a Mom'n'Pop's diner and Sam shuts off the engine. He starts inside and I follow. We sit down in a back booth, him across from me, and a waitress soon arrives.

Not your typical, grandma-aged, old, raspy-voiced, kind-eyed, waitress. But, an about-my-age, blonde, chewing, well, smacking, gum, waltzing over, swaying her hips. She eyes Sam, and addresses him.

"What can I get for ya?" She asks him, voice sugary sweet, laced with want. Jealousy flares itself in my stomach. Sam reads the menu before him, oblivious to her tries at being seductive. I speak, turning her attention to me. She has an obvious distaste of me, I can tell.

"Um, I'll have over-medium eggs, side of bacon, and biscuits and gravy," I smile sweetly, "And my boyfriend will have...?"

She scowls as Sam's head shoots up, eyes laced with confusion, brow furrowed as he looks at me. I just shrug. She turns to him and poises her pen over the pad she has. He orders his and then a bacon, egg and cheese biscuit, sandwich for Dean, I guess. She smiles and makes her way back behind the bar, shooting me daggers.

I turn back to the booth's table and Sam asks, "Boyfriend?"

I shrug again, "She was eating you up, eye candy, and it made me mad, so I made her mad."

"Why'd it make you mad?" He asks, smiling slightly.

I blushed and looked out the window to my left. "No reason."

We ate and then headed back to the motel, Dean's food in tow. Luckily his sandwich was still hot when we got back, because as we walked in, he was walking out of the shower, only wearing a towel. I quickly turn my attention to the television that is now on as Dean grabs clothes and heads back into the bathroom.

Sam sets Dean's food down on the table and, as if on cue, Dean rushes out, fully clothed, and starts devouring it. I sit down, crawling backwards like a crab on the bed, until I reach the headboard. Sam plops down beside me and we stare at the screen, some infomercial playing as Dean almost literally 'non-nom-nom's in the background. After a few moments, Dean looks up food in his mouth.

"Let's go to work," he says and we're out the door.

We head out to canvas the strip-club that was designated in Sam's earlier research. We walk inside after about a five to ten minute drive. The building is dark and stuffy inside. Colorful lights shining and moving around with a rap beat thrumming and giving the girls on the stage, tables, poles, and bar something to dance erotically to. Dean's eyes go straight to a blonde in fron of him, dressed in a sexy angel costume. He sits down, trailed by me and Sam, much to Sam's obvious discomfort of being here.

The angel from before begins to give Dean a lap dance and he smiles big. She is then accompanied by a raven-haired girl, decked out in a devil costume and they start dancing together in front of Dean.

"Now that's what I call peace on Earth," he states and smiles. After a few minutes, we exit. Dean groaning that we had to leave so fast. We get into the car and go back to the motel. I look at the alarm clock and it reads 3:20. Time was flying by. I jump on the bed, followed by Sam who had gotten his laptop.

After a few hours of basic cable and research, it was dark and time for me to get ready for my 'interview'. I get off the bed, grab my bag and head into the bathroom. I pull my hair down from where it was and after some prodding, blow-drying and brushing it sits around my head, wavy and seductive-looking. I pull out some make-up and apply a generous amount of eye-liner and ruby-red lipstick. Tonight, I had to look like a slut to get the job. I open my bag and grab my blue-jean mini-skirt and a silk tank top. I slide them on and primp myself in the mirror, once more. Yeah, I look the part.

I walk out of the bathroom, put my arms out to my sides and twirl in front of the boys.

"Do I look good?" I laugh.

Sam chuckles, looking a bit uncomfortable and Dean is wide-eyed with a huge grin on his face.

"Well, lets go. I'm itchin' to dance on some poles!" I joke. They get off the beds and we head back out to the strip-joint. We walk inside again, met by the same dark room, colorful lights, and bass beat. Sam and Dean take a seat at an open seated booth in the corner and I walk to the bar.

"Hey," I call to the bartender, who lumbers over.

"Yeah, sweet cheeks?" He asks, a smile on his face.

Well, I have to be skanky, so I say, "Mmm, hey, I need a job?"

"Well," he says, cleaning a glass and pointing his chin towards the end of the bar, "Go back through that door, and find a short, fat man, in a white suit. His names Sal, he's the owner."

I leave the bartender behind as I make my way through the door at the end of the bar. It doesn't take long to find him. He's in the dressing room talking to some girls dressed as a cat and a nurse. I walk up and tap him on the shoulder.

He turns and smiles. "Yes, darlin'?"

"Um, hello," I say, smiling, voice sugary sweet, making my eyes bed-roomy and dark, "The bartender sent me back here. I'm in need of a job."

"Well your hired, Miss...?"

"Stormee," I fill in.

"Well, we're about to start the Sequence. Which is where we introduce our girls. So, you can pick your own stage name. And you can get set up and dressed over there with Vivian," He nods towards a woman near a mirror, fixing another girl's hair. "And then you'll be good to go." He winks and I walk over to Vivian.

"Hi," I say to her. She looks up. She's about twenty-something with brown eyes and a kind smile. "I'm new, and I was told to come over to you."

"Oh, okay," She says. She looks down, moving a piece of the girl's hair once more and sends her on her way. "Well, you are?"

"Stormee," I say again. It's weird saying your own name.

"Okay, got a stage name?"

"Um, no...Not really." I say, blushing a little. She sits me down.

"That's okay hun. Um, Stormy Night?"

"That sounds cool," I say as she fixes my hair and adds more make-up.

"So, we've got cats, nurses, dominatrices, and almost everything else. How do you feel about being the naughty school-girl?" She asks and I smile.

"Oh, yeah!" I say, enthusiastic.

After I'm dressed up, they start calling girls out. Random names like Bambi, Riot, Lust, Axel, and others. I look down at my outfit. I am dressed in a white dress shirt, cut right under my boobs, tied in the middle, a black lacy bra protruding from underneath, a red plaid skirt, about two or three inches long that velcro's shut at the side, over red and black panties, with my hair tied in two pigtails and curled, with red bows. I had a meter stick, too. I definitely looked like a stripper.

"Now, Stormy Night, the naughty little school-girl that will do anything to get and A," Vivian's voice announces seductively. I walk towards the curtain, well, sauntering being a better word.

As I walk through it, the lights start to move faster and the beat gets louder. There are men everywhere, more than when I first came in. I can't make out faces from this far off but I know I have to go around the tables and booths anyway. I waltz over to a table near the front where a balding man sits. He is about forty, brownish-grey hair and a curly mustache. He's holding a glass of what I think is whiskey. I slap my ruler down on the table and swing my hips toward him. He turns in his seat where there is an open space in front of him and I walk there. I dance in front of him running my now free hands over my body. He tucks a dollar into the waistband of my skirt and I grab my ruler again, running it up one of his legs as I walk towards the back.

I see Sam and Dean, and the angel and devil from before. The angel is giving Dean a lap dance again and the devil is dancing erotically in front of Sam. Both sights make me slightly jealous. I walk over and smile sexily. I address each of the girls.

"I got this one, girls," I say into their ears, loud enough that Sam and Dean hear me. It seems they don't recognize me yet, all dolled-up and slutty. Dean just adjusts himself on his seat and smiles. Sam still looks uncomfortable. I slide in between them and take my hands and rub the sides of each of their thighs. This is gonna be funny. I continue, smiling seductively and looking at them from under my lashes.

"Sammy, Deano, was my essay good enough?" I say innocently, remembering my costume.

Their eyes go wide and Sam shys away from my hand that was on his leg. I laugh. Dean just smiles bigger.

"So, your Stormy Night? I shoulda guessed!" Dean says. Sam just looks plain baffled. "Anything on the case?" Dean asks.

"Not yet. I'm gonna go around, talk to some of the girls, try and find out something," I say. I realize that my hand is still on Dean's leg. I remove it and pull the buck from by skirt. I throw it to Dean. "For the breakfast, I took one of your cards," I whisper in his ear. I get up, grab my ruler, and smile and wink at Sam. He gives a small smile in return. Now for the big guns...

I rip (un-velcro) my skirt and sling it onto Sam's lap, who goes wide-eyed. I smack my ruler softly on my hand.

"Well, I'm gonna go do some extra credit work," I smirk and walk away, switching my hips.

The night rolls on. And after some questioning of the girls, some regulars and others, I sit in the back, counting my 'tips', thinking about it all.

"So, how was your first night, sweetie?" A woman asks, and I look up to see Vivian, holding onto a man's arm. He is one of the regulars that I talked to earlier. I smile.

"Pretty good, got alotta money," I say.

"Well, all the tips are yours, so, be expecting as much every other night," she smiles and walks out an exit door, man in tow. I get up, and walk around to find Sal to see if it's alright to go home, now.

I find him with more girls, as like earlier.

"Hey, Sal, is it okay that if leave, now?" I ask.

"Yeah, darlin'. See ya tomorrow," he smiles and sends me on my way.

I go back to the dressing room to find my clothes from earlier. After I remove my school ensemble I slip back into my skirt, tank top and ash-grey ankle boots. I pull the pigtails out and shake my hair around my shoulders. I leave out the same exit door that Viv left through. I make my way around front and see the shiny surface of the Impala.

I slide into the backseat, smiling widely. Tonight was actually fun.

"So, how was work?" Dean asks, laughing.

"Same, I think I need someone to check my homework though," I eye Sam. "I don't want to get a paddling." I smile and laugh and Sam does too. We drive back to the motel and I slip into Sam's shirt once again and jump into bed. Sam gets ready for bed and then slides in next to me.

He's wearing a grey tank top tonight, and sweats again. He turns onto his left side, facing me and I get on my left side, too. I wait until the lights are out and Dean's snoring is filling the room, then lean backwards into Sam. He stirs but stays asleep. He slips an arm around me and I smile. Soon, I fall asleep. And my smile disappears, because Carter is before me once again.


	19. He's Leaving, You're Coping, and I'm Lost

He's leaving, you're coping and I'm lost.

Sam's P.O.V.

I'm laying in bed, on my left side, facing Stormee's back, mulling over random drowsy thoughts. My eyes are lightly shut, sleep making them heavier by the minute. Dean's snoring has become, over the years, the soundtrack of my dreams. Which sounds really fuzzy and gay. But, it's what I hear falling asleep every night. Stormee shifts, backwards, into me. I don't know why but I fake like I'm asleep, and slip an arm around her.

She sinks into me more, and I sigh inwardly. I forget about her little moments with Dean, well the ones that I caught, her new job and costumes and the men gawking at her, and her giving lap dances and everything. I attach myself to her, tightening my arm slightly and doze off, the scent of her hairspray and shampoo filling my nostrils. I wake up to her crying, again.

"Stormee," I say softly, gently turning her to face me, "Baby, are you okay?" Did I just call her 'baby'?

She lays facing me, wiping tears from her eyes, sniffling.

"Sam," she says and buries her face in my neck.

"Tell me," I say, holding her against me and rubbing her hair and back. "Tell me what's wrong. Tell me what to do, Storm."

"Dreams. Just, just hold me, Sam." And I do. Feeling her tears, warm and wet as they slide down my neck, I hold her, whispering comforting words, only meant for her, as we fall back into a now blissful sleep. But, right before, she lifts her head up, lips placing themselves on mine. Fitting together perfectly. And, right then and there, she's mine, and I'm hers. And that's all there is to it.

Dean's P.O.V.

I wake up, light blinding me shortly and sit up. The shower's running and the keys are gone to the Impala. I don't properly asses the situation because I just go to the bathroom; thinking its Sam in there and he sent Stormee to pick up breakfast.

I open the door and steam hits me. It feels good on my skin and I stand there for a moment, letting the bathroom unfog so I can see to pee. As I'm walking to the toilet, the shower suddenly shuts off and the curtain is brought back. Stormee steps out, reaching for a towel laid on the back of the toilet, until she sees me, that is.

She shrieks, or 'eeps' or something, and tries to cover herself with her not-thick-enough arms. I jerk my head to the right, facing the door and blindly hand her the towel.

"Sorry! I thought Sam was in here, I had to piss," I say, as I hear the fabric of the towel rubbing itself together around her.

"It's, uh, okay, Dean. I'm good now," she says and I turn. I have no idea why I haven't left the bathroom yet. This is awkward. Not saying I didn't like the sight.

I smile, remembering what she looked like without the towel. Hair wet and wavy, smooth skin, glistening with beads of water. Then the front door opens and closes. I walk out of the bathroom, followed by a dripping Stormee. Sam stops mid-stride. Taking in the sight. Me and Stormee, coming out of the bathroom together. Her in just a towel, still wet, and me in my Metallica shirt and sweats. Then, his eyes go wide. And something like anger flashes in his eyes, so fast, that if you didn't know my brother like I did, you wouldn't have caught it.

His mouth falls slightly open and he looks from me to Stormee, back and forth, back and forth, tightly clutching the take-out bags in his hands. I take a step forward, putting my arms out in front of me and smiling slightly.

"Not what you think, Sammy," I say, slightly wishing it was. "I woke up, had to pee, saw the keys gone and I thought for some odd reason you let Stormee take the car to get food. So, I thought it was you in the shower. And when I went in, Stormee came out. Simple as that. If I wanted a little company, you know I'd go get some." My smile getting bigger with that last statement.

Stormee says something along the lines of 'Shit, be right back,' clutches her bag and zooms to the bathroom. Shit! I still have to piss!

Sam starts walking again, and sits the bags on the table. He rummages through them, staying silent. He then throws me a heavily wrapped square that smells delicious. I tear open the wrapper, forgetting about my urge to relieve myself. It's another bacon, egg and cheese whatever. I start stuffing it in my mouth.

"Dean, really?" Sam says, as he pulls out food and sets it on the table. "Your gonna choke or something. That's just gross." I mumble, with food in my mouth, something along the lines of 'Shut up, Sasquatch'.

Stormee comes out of the bathroom, now fully clothed. Sadly. Sam smiles at her and she takes a seat at the table, grabbing a styrofoam container. Sam sits across from her and does the same. I feign a look of hurt, adressing them.

"Hey, is there some party over there that I'm not invited to?" I ask, looking at them.

Sam chuckles as Stormee smiles and gets up, walking towards me.

"Oh, Deano, no. You are the party!" She says and rubs my hair, roughly, giggling.

She's still standing in front of me, so I stuff the rest of my sandwich in my mouth and grab her around the waist, pulling her down on the bed. I swallow my food, smile at her, and roll over, where she's under me. Then, I begin to tickle her.

"Dean! Oh my God! Stop it!" She yells, laughing uncontrollably. I continue anyway, and she snorts and laughs more. We are both unaware of Sam exiting the room.

Sam's P.O.V.

It all comes rushing back. The thoughts that were hidden last night, when she was in my arms. Especially, well, specifically, the ones of her and Dean. Why does Dean get all of the girls? What does he have that makes him so inseperable from them? She's just playing around with him, I tell myself, as she ruffles his hair. Then, he pulls her on top of him.

I can't fight it anymore. The jealousy encasing my every emotion. He starts tickling her. And she begs for him to stop, laughing at the same time. She's with Dean, and she's having fun. That's the way it's always been. The way it will always be.

I get up, and walk away. Outside. As I shut the door behind me, I know what I have to do. I feel numb all over, as I get in the Impala's passenger side and open the little hide-away space under the seat. I pull out my lock box that Dean doesn't know about.

Then, I pull out my acceptance letter. To Stanford.

Stormee's P.O.V.

"Dean! Stop! Pleeeease! Dean! God! Quit it! I'm about to pee!" I scream and he stops, laughing himself. I'm out of breath, aching from his tickling and my laughing. I sit up on the bed, well as far as I can, with Dean straddling me. He pulls himself up and off of me, rolling to the side and almost falling off the bed. I sit up fully, catching him. He falls back on my legs and I laugh again.

"Yeah, I'm definitely the party," he says, smiling widely. He has a great smile.

I look away from where he is under me, his head on my thighs. I turn my neck to set my eyes upon the table where Sam sits. Only, he's not there anymore.

"Dean? Where's Sam?" I ask, and he sits up quickly, searching the room. I jump up and make my way to the bathroom where Dean follows me. After a quick look behind the shower curtain and a peek under the sink in the cabinets, thinking 'No, he couldn't fit in there!', I make my way back into the main room.

"I'll go check outside," I say and Dean just nods. I walk out into the light of mid-morning. I steal a glimpse at the Impala to my left and do a double-take. Sam is in shotgun, head laying in one hand, eyes clenched shut. I head over to him and stand in the space between the open passenger door and the inside of the car.

"Sam?" I ask and he looks up, so many emotions flashing in his eyes. He is clutching a piece of paper in his right hand. I look down, trying to read the print from all the way up here. He shifts so I cannot fully see it anymore.

"Uh, yeah?" He says, completely emotionless. Face now blank.

"What's wrong? Why're you out here?" I ask, worried.

"I gotta get out," he whispers, so quiet. That one little sentence filled with so much emotion. It was so quiet that I doubted I heard it in the first place. Until I saw the pain and regret and hatred and depression and everything else. Just in his eyes. His beautiful, loving, caring hazel-eyes. The ones I fell into at night and kept me comforted, and happy. The sight broke my heart. I moved backwards, to let him out of the car, but he just sits there. He notices the confusion on my face.

"Not out of the car, Stormee. Out of this. This life. This job. Everything," he says, motioning around him.

"What do you mean? Your leaving? Where are you gonna go?" I shoot the questions at him. He just holds up the slip of paper. I take it from him. Instantly, my eyes glue themselves to the top corner. Stanford. I read the black print underneath.

"Your going to Stanford? Does, does Dean know?"

"It doesn't matter. He'll just try to stop me. I'm done. I can't do this anymore, Storm. I'm sorry."

"Go tell him, Sam. Tell him that you got accepted and your going to go live an apple pie life. Tell him you can't do this anymore. That your leaving him. Tell him that your leaving," I falter. "Me." I whisper, tears in my eyes. How am I going to get away from the dreams now? How can he just leave like this? He gets out of the car, taking the paper from me and walks inside.

I stand there for a moment longer, then shut the car door, wiping my eyes and slip into the motel room. I sit at the table in the corner. Blank. Staring into space. Sam was leaving. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Sam's P.O.V.

I walk inside the room, Stormee following shortly after and sitting in the corner, emotionless. Dean looks up from the bed and eyes me.

"Where'd you go, Sammy?" He asks, the remote in one hand, while the other scratches his neck absently.

"Dean, we need to talk," I say, looking down and stepping towards the other bed where I sit down. Dean sits up, and looks at me, concerned. I have to break his gaze.

"What is it, Sam?" He asks, studying me, then looks to Stormee who's still staring off somewhere far from here. I can't blame her.

"I'm leaving," I say, as I look at him once again.

"What are you talking about?" He demands, tensing.

"I'm leaving. I'm gonna go to college. I got accepted to Stanford. And I'm gonna go."

He stands, his normally shorter stature, towering over me from where I sit.

"What the fuck are you talking about, Sam?" He asks, again, louder than before.

I hand him the acceptance letter and he skims it before tossing it back at me.

"So, your gonna go live a white picket fence life and leave all this behind? Hunting? Dad and Me? Bobby, Storm, and everyone else? Your just gonna say 'fuck all this' and forget? How can you do that?" He shouts. "You know what's out there, Sam. You can't just blow it all off!"

"Dean," I say, standing up, facing him. "It's been building up all these years. The resentment, and lonliness and knowing we can't save everyone! I can't do it anymore! I'm not gonna do this anymore. I can't just be a hunter all my life. I want normal!"

"Sam, since when have you wanted normal? This is normal, for us. You, me, Dad, hunting. We're a family, Sam. You can't just leave that!"

"I'm not trying to leave y'all behind. I just need out, Dean!"

He puts his hands on his neck, closing his eyes.

He reopens them with a, "How do you think Dad's gonna react when you tell him this?"

"I won't be here too," I say. "I don't want to live in fear anymore. I grew up, forced into a life that I didn't and don't want. A kid isn't supposed to grow up praying that his Dad comes back. That when him and his brother leave, they'll come back in one piece, breathing. Knowing monster's exist. I want to go back. I pray every day that I'll wake up, in my crib, back in Lawrence and grow up going to tee-ball games and mowing lawns, going to Prom, getting married, having kids and knowing that the monster in the closet was just a figment of my childish imagination. I want to be normal again! I'm getting out. While I still can."

"Sam," he says, as I grab my duffel from the corner, by Stormee. I start walking towards the door. "Don't do this."

"I have to," I say. And I walk out the door. Down the street. Down the highway. Crying without the tears. I stick my thumb out. Until I'm picked up. On my way to normal. I'm sorry, Dean. Goodbye.

Dean's P.O.V.

I pace the room that Sam just left. I've been wearing down the already thread-bare carpet. I pull my hands from my neck and pull my phone out of my pocket. Hoping this one time, Dad actually answers.

I dial him, and ring-ring-ring, You've reached John Winchester. If this is an emergency, call my son Dean at-I hit 'end'. Next time, I'll leave a voice-mail. One of a hundred that I've left before. Stormee still sits in the corner. Now, silent tears streak down her cheeks.

"Storm, hey," I say as I walk over to her. She gets up quickly, grabs something from her bag and runs into the bathroom. I sit down on my bed. Thoughts of what just happened wracking my brain. She comes out, in Sam's shirt, the one he let her wear to bed and she sits down in the middle of their bed. Well, her bed now, I think, bitterly. She wraps her arms around her legs that she curled up to her chest. She's not holding back the tears now.

I move to the other bed, taking her in my arms as she sobs. A few minutes later, she dozes off and I lay her down gently, covering her up. I move back to my bed and pull my phone out again. I redial Dad and this time I leave a message.

"Dad, it's me. I know your probably busy. But, somethings happened. It's Sam. He, he left. He got some damn letter from Stanford and he left to go to fucking college. I don't know what to do, Dad. Call me back or something. And other news than that. You know a girl named Stormee? Well, a while back, you helped her out because she was kinda tied to yellow-eyes. And she's with us, well...me. Helping out on a case. We're in Reno, Dad. And Sam's gone. So, call, or something. Bye."

I close the phone, tears in my eyes.

"Damnit, Sam..."

Sam's P.O.V.

I'm in a diesal, with some trucker named Andy. He seems like an okay guy. He's got a picture of himself, a wife, and a son and daughter taped to his dashboard, with a pressed daisy taped down beside it. We're now on I-80, about to pass Sacramento.

We make small chit chat and he drops me off in San Fransisco.

"I have to turn back around, goin' to Yuba City. Good luck, son."

"Thanks, Andy," I say, grabbing my bag and hopping down from the cab of the 18-wheeler.

I hitch a ride with some kids visiting San Fransisco for the weekend. They are heading back to Stanford. And this is as easy as it can get.

"Well, I'm Danny, this is Kara, Tes, Dawn, and Justin," he says from the driver's seat.

"I'm Sam. I'm heading to Stanford, too," I say, smiling.

I get in and the girl he pointed out as Kara turns to me from the middle of the 'soccermom' mini-van.

"I've never seen you around the university?" She says.

"I just got my acceptance letter, so, I'm just now gonna enroll."

"Cool," she says and smiles.

After about an hour, we pull into a parking lot in front of a building that looms over. It's around noon and I take a deep breath as I exit and say good-bye and thank you to them, heading towards what they pointed out as the main building.

I walk inside, met by cool, air-conditioning and walk to the first desk I see.

"Hello, how may I help you?" A woman asks me. She's about forty, forty-five, with brown eyes that match her shoulder-length hair.

"My names Sam Winchester. I just got my acceptance letter and I'm here to enroll."

She takes my letter and smiles. After about twenty minutes, she pulls away from the computer, handing me papers. As I leave, I sift through them. Schedules, school calender, free agenda book, school map, dorm room number, and everything else that I could possibly carry.

I look at the map and head to the boy's dorm. The desk lady said I didn't have to start classes until everyone else does, on Monday. So I had time to get myself together. Then, I realize today's Sunday. I walk inside the dorm and it's filled with posters, doors, and guys standing here or there. I look at the room numbers, in search of 14A. I see it, shining in a metallic gold. I knock, just out of courtesy to my roommate.

A few seconds later, a dusty haired guy opens the door. He's a little shorter than me. Green eyes, and hair about the length of mine, yet its poofy from bed-head.

"Yahh?" He asks, yawning.

"Um, I'm Sam. I'm your new roommate," I say, not trying to tick off the guy I'll be rooming with for a while. I think.

"Kay," he says, turning around and walking back inside the room, leaving the door open. I follow him, seeing him flop onto a bed, face first. That's something Dean would do, I think. Then I frown. I look to the right of the room. There's a two-door sliding closet, and as I walk forward, an indention in the room where a desk sits, a small shelf and a naked bed. I say naked as in no bed clothes.

I'm guessing this is my bed, so I throw my duffel onto it and sit, taking another deep breath and closing my eyes. This is where I start fresh. This is the beginning of my new life.

Stormee's P.O.V.

I roll out of bed. Groggy from sleep. I look around and Dean's sitting on his bed, watching T.V. I walk into the bathroom, yawning. I stick my head out of the room and eye the alarm clock. It's almost seven and my shift at the club starts at like nine. I take of my clothes, and jump into the shower that's still heating up.

I clean up and get out, getting ready for work. I walk out of the bathroom a few minutes later. Dean's still sitting on his bed, staring at the screen. My bed's empty.

"Where's..." I trail off, remembering earlier. How could I forget?

"My boots." I say, trying to catch myself. Dean looks up at me and shrugs. I climb onto my bed and attempt to throw a pillow at him. He knocks it away with the remote as some sort of sword. I smile.

"Deano, I gotta go to work. The case. Remember?"

"Uh-a-duh!" He says, making a wierd looking face. "Let's go then. You bein' the school-girl again tonight?"

"Dunno! Now, really, where are my boots?" I ask looking around. I find them. One under the table and the other sticking out from under the bed. I slide them on. Tonight, I am wearing blue-jean cut offs, and the red tank top I wore with Dean to that bar. I found a little laundry room at the end of the motel, but, I still choose to wear Sam's shirt to bed. Sam...

I walk outside and get into the Impala. Dean follows suit and we head to the club. Dean is overly eager. The horn-ball.

We pull up and head inside. Dean goes for the back, to the open booth seat that he sat at just last night. With Sam... I head into the back, walking straight to Vivan's little chair.

"Hey, Miss Stormy Night. How ya feel about being a cheerleader?"

I smile and she fixes me up. After The Sequence I go around the tables and booths, dancing, getting tips, and asking about the disappearances. I then head to the back, to Dean. Angel's there again. Looks like she likes Dean. I walk up, excusing her and dance in front of Dean. Can't be too conspicuous, can I?

"Well, well. A cheerleader? Really? And a Dallas Cowboy one at that!" Dean exclaims, laughing. I fill him in on what I've found out. Which isn't much. Then, I leave to go make some more money.

Closing time rolls around and I sit in the back again, counting money. I haven't really talked to Sal tonight. Vivian struts up, accompanied again by a man. It's a different one from last night, though. She says good job tonight and makes her leave.

I get up and head back over to the main part of the dressing room. I grab my shorts and tank and put them back on. I slip the money in my pocket and head out to find Dean. He's sitting in the Impala, listening to AC/DC and I smile. My smile falters when I open the rear door to the car, almost getting in. I then proceed to get in shotgun.

"Sorry, force of habit," I say.

A few days, and missing men later, we found the center of the cause. Every man that I saw Viv leave with, disappeared. Turns out she was a Vetala. Something like a vampire and we 'ganked' (a new word I picked up from Dean) her and then left to find another case.

We're in a small diner, now. Dean sitting across from me, shoveling fries down. I pick at my food. I can't help but think of what Sam would say. "Dude, gross." More of a girl than me. I smile. Sam...why'd you have to leave? I've snuck Dean's phone a few times, leaving Sam voice messages. One about the Vetala, and a few others about how things are going. He never calls back. Never leaves a message or texts.

I pick up a fry from my plate and eye it, until someone walks into the diner. Someone familiar, yet older now.

"Dean," I say, eyes a little wide. He looks up at me, staring at something behind him. "Your dad's here."


	20. Woman in White, Pilot, Part 1

Sam's P.O.V.

I'm about a week in, and I'm loving it. Stanford really is where I belong. My roommate, Matt, is having me meet up with him and some of his friends. I'm walking towards the dorm. I just finished my last class of the day. It's about three, and I'm meeting them at four, at the commons. So, I head inside, not bothering anymore to knock on our door. I set my backpack down on my bed and turn to the closet. I pull out a small bag that has some body wash, shampoo, things like that in it. I then get a new tee, jeans, boxers and a towel. I head down the main hall to the shared restroom.

Once in side, I shower and change, heading back to my room to check the time. It's three-forty-five and I finish drying my hair off. The walk to the commons will be about ten minutes, so I pull on my boots and head out. But, before I do, I check my phone. Deleting their texts, calls and voice-mails. I have to turn my back on the past now.

As I'm walking, I open up the little sliver of a memory I have of her. Holding her at night. I've been writing letters. To Dean and Stormee. Ones that I'll never send. They lay to rest in a little iron lock-box under my bed. I walk into the commons area and spot Matt who starts waving me over. He's sitting on a little coffee table in between two couches and fluffed chairs at the ends of the table. One of the couches is already filled, three people; the other only by one person, who is on the opposite end of where I sit.

"Sam! You made it. Well, this is Mikey Lane," he says pointing out a guy on the other end of the couch I'm on. "Maria and Devon Wright, they're twins, Austin Decker, and this is Jessica Moore." I turn to where he points. At the end of the coffee table, in a over-stuffed chair, sits a tan blonde. Who smiles at me.

Dean's P.O.V.

"Dad?" I say as I stand up from the booth. He walk faster towards me. He had went off a couple of weeks, maybe a month back, following up on a demon lead.

"Dean, my boy," he replies, gripping me tight. He lets go quickly, recovering his macho-man exterior.

"How'd you find us, Dad?" I ask as he sits and makes an order with the waitress.

"GPS, in your phone. And this is a state highway, and the Impala is out front."

Stormee finally looks up from her food; acknowledging that Dad is here.

"Hey, kid," he says to her, smiling a bit.

"Hey, uh, John. It's, it's good to see you again," she says and idly plays with a fry.

"You, too. How have things been going?" He asks, and I start to finish what's left of my burger, looking up every now and again.

"Good, I guess. Been hunting with Dean, here, and, and Sam. Well, I was doin' some recon, on some demons and got a call from Bobby, who wanted me to come over. Well, I got into a wreck and it just so happens that your boys are the ones who found me. And now, I'm sitting in a diner, with some pretty damn good fries and some pretty damn good hunters. How about you?"

"Trail went cold, a little ways back. Electrical storms stopped. So, I headed towards y'all. Now, Dean, tell me about what happened?"

"Well," I say, swallowing the remnants of chewed burger in my mouth. "We were all just hanging in the room, and then Sam slips out, and after we realize he's gone, Stormee heads outside to see where he is and what's up, ya know? And then a couple minutes later, they come back inside and Sam just starts going on and on about how he's gonna go to college and quit hunting and Storm's just in the corner, staring off into space and I'm like, 'Uh, no, dude, your not,' and then he just leaves. I tried to reason with him, scare him, everything, Dad. I even brought you up, what you would think and he still left. I've called him, and left messages, texts, but he never returns the favor. And I know that Stormee has been sneaking my phone, doing the same." I say, eying Stormee, a small smile, playing itself on the corner of my lips. "So, what do we do, Dad?" I ask, after a couple minutes of eating.

"Nothing. Let him try normal," he says and gets up, exiting the diner.

Sam's P.O.V.

"Well, I don't know what to tell you, but I think that Charles Manson was just plain crazy. Sam, he was a murderer!" Jessica exclaims, as we walk to where I will drop her off, at the commons. We have been hanging out for a while now, and I'm really starting to like her. She removes a fly-away hair from her blonde head and I smile at her.

"Well, you see, Jess, he never actually killed anyone. That's the thing. He convinced others to kill people. So, hence, not an actual murderer," I smile again and leave her, baffled, on the steps of the commons. I head to my dorm, ready to sleep. When I get in, Matt's on his bed, flipping through a magazine. Upon further inspection, its not a Hustler or Playboy, thankfully, just a Game Informer.

"How was your date?" He asks, smiling at me and wiggling his eyebrows.

"It wasn't a date, Matt. It's a class we have together. I don't see any candle-lit tables or hear any funky jazz playing in Mr. Romahn's room. So, not a date," I smile, thinking about an actual date with Jessica.

"Anyways, dude, your phone was buzzing like hell, so I picked it up and some chick had called. Uh, Sandy or Sally or something. Uh, your Dad came and saw her and Dan and then he left, saying let you be."

"Was it a voice-mail?" I asked, kinda mad that he picked it up, but after all, I learned something. Dad had came back. I just always deleted it all before reading or listening. I have to leave it behind, right? All of it?

"Yeah, but chick had a sexy voice!"

"Dude, no." I laughed a little, thinking about Stormee's voice. It was kinda hot, especially when she just woke up, or when she was sleepy. Or that night, in the club, when she was that school-girl. Sam, stop, I tell myself.

I flop onto my bed and pull the box up from under it. I pull out the bottom notebook. Leather and bound with a strap, much like my father's. I flip to a free page and address the letter.

_Stormee,_

_I went out with her again, kinda. I know it's lame writing you like this but, it's not like you'll ever read it. She's great and I hate the part of me that see's this as using her. It's just, she is so different than you. Blonde, taller, tanner, she's like your exact opposite. And, well, if I'm trying to forget you, I can't like, go out with a chick who has your hair, or your, your eyes, I can't-_

"Dude, what do you write in almost every night?" Matt eyes my from his bed.

"Just, just letters."

"To who?" He asks, raising a brow.

"Um, Stormee and some to Dean. I'm not sending them though."

"Who's Dean?"

"My, uh, brother."

"And is Stormee, like your woman or something? Baby-momma?" He laughs a little.

"Yeah, something like that..." I close the notebook, replacing it in the box and blinking back tears. Who exactly is Stormee to me now? Just a memory?

Stormee's P.O.V.

_One Year Later_

"Rise up, gather 'round. Rock this place, to the ground. Burn it up! Let's go for broke. Watch the night go up in smoke!" We sang along to the music.

"Oh, my god, Dean!" I exclaim, turning down the radio.

"Hey!" He shouts. I quiet him with my index finger in the air between us, a stern look on my face, lips pursed.

"When was the last time we, like, actually sung this?" I say, thinking back.

"Uh...GOING TO THAT BAR! HA! The look on the idiots face when he hit the floor, ahhhh, good times!" He laughed, smiling.

I've been hunting with him, ever since. The day I had that wreck, about a year ago, give or take, I've been with Dean. Hunting, drinking, messing around. Not in the way you think though. Dean is like a big brother to me. I mean, we have our moments... Like, last night, we got into an arguement over movie food. Licorice or popcorn. Uh, popcorn, HELLO! And when I started throwing popcorn at him, while we were watching Ghostbusters, the first one, shouting, 'WHO YA GONNA CALL? HOUSEKEEPING!', I guess he couldn't take it anymore.

He jumped off of his bed, dropping his licorice on the night table and took my popcorn, went to the bathroom and poured it into the toilet. I jumped on his back, playfully hitting him. And then he picked me up, over his shoulder and threw me on my bed. He jumped on top of me and started tickling me, furiously. Once I had quieted down, the only sound in our room, Dan Akroyd's voice, and our heavy breathing, he leaned down and kissed me. It wasn't our first kiss, that was a while ago. But, it was nice. And it happened every now and then, always ending in a long, silent look, eye to eye, then we would resume whatever we were doing before.

"Oh, that wasn't the highlight of the night!" I say, smiling.

"What was it, the, the whole, uh 'eat my spaghetti' thing?" He asks, looking briefly to me, then back to the road.

"No, it was this." I leaned over in the seat, lips right to his ear. "Don't be." I remembered it like it was yesterday. I pull back and laugh at the look on his face. Confusion mixed with astonishment, and something just, Dean.

"You remember that?" He grins, laughing a little.

"Uh, I'm not that old!" I exclaim in mock shock. Ha, that rhymes. Mock Shock. Stormee, back in the game. "Besides, it was our first, whatever this little thing here is." I smile, motioning between us.

"Yeah, I remember, too. And what do you mean 'whatever this thing is'?" He asks, serious now.

"Uh, the whole, I don't know. Hey, I'm gonna randomly kiss you, then go and put my other shoe on, thing." I laugh. "So, what exactly is it Deano?"

He looks at me, before turning his eyes back to the road, and smiling.

"Whatever you want it to be, Storm."

**Three Year Time Jump**

Sam's P.O.V.

_Dean,_

_I know I've written 'sorry' a thousand times. This is like, the third notebook I have, just of letters. I hope, after all this time, you've come to understand. Well, Jessica and I, we got an apartment together. You'd like her._

_Stormee,_

_Hey, hell, I can't believe it. It's been four damn years. You should be turning my age soon. Happy twenty-second, sometime. I hope you've been keeping yourself out of trouble. I told myself a million times that I was going to leave it all behind right? But, I can't let go, of what wasn't mine in the first place. So, here comes good-bye. For good this time. I'm going to put the books up for good. I can't keep living in the past. Even though its like it was yesterday. And, I still care. I still find myself waking up in the middle of the night, when Jessica rolls over or something, and I think it's you having another dream. Sometimes I wake up in the morning, and I look around for the keys to the Impala, so I can sneak Dean breakfast. And sometimes, I call her Storm. And that is why, I have to fully let go. I'm not gonna run my life in the past. I can't. But if I could, I-_

"Sam? Baby, you ready? The party's about to start!" Jessica calls from her vanity mirror.

"Yeah, Jess." I close the notebook and put it back in the box, shoving it in the top of the closet. New apartment, new hiding places.

I walk into the room Jess is in. It's a Halloween costume party. And you know what I'm dressed as? ME! I know, scary, huh? She sits at the small table, putting in her earrings. She's dressed as a nurse. Little white and red hat, short dress, about mid-thigh length. I smile. Jessica was great. She's funny, tall, tan, blonde, and pushy. And I like that about her.

We get to the party and our other friend comes up. He's a zombie. I smile at him while he gets mad at me.

"Where's your costume!" He says, motioning towards my body. I take a drink of my beer that Jess handed to me.

"Halloween's not my thing," I say, feeling oddly ironic.

"Well, lets drink to Sam. For his victory. Scoring a 174 on the LSATS!" Jessica moves her beer up, and we clank them together. "What would I do without you?" I ask, smiling.

She leans in and says, "Crash and burn," before kissing me.

My victory. I, ex-hunter Sam Winchester, am going to be a lawyer.

Dean's P.O.V.

"Leave it to me to get you too drunk," I say, exasperated. She hasn't been this hungover since she really turned twenty-one and I dragged her to a smoky, old bar; resurfacing hours later.

"Not, your fault, De," she says, trying to catch her breath and swallowing. I am standing in the doorway of the motel bathroom, while she's leaned over the toilet. I move down and pull her long hair back while she throws up again. After I'm sure she's finished, got nothing left in that stomach, I pull her up to the sink. Leave it up to me, I tell myself, to always play the role of big brother. I smile at that, getting Stormee to wash her mouth, brush her teeth and take a breather. I start pulling her into the main room and she stops short, forcefully. She opens her arms wide, and gives me a small smile.

"Carry me!" She says and fakes as if she's falling backwards. I catch her anyway, making her feel accomplished. I roll my eyes, and carry her bridal style to the side of her bed, and then I throw her. Onto the bed, of course.

"Dean! SO, NOT NICE!" She shouts, smiling. She leans forward, clenching her eyes and hand to her head. "Ow! De!" She shouts and I race forward, sliding next to her on the bed.

"Hey, Storm, what's wrong, look at me." I say. She leans into my chest, then brings her head up, a wise-ass grin on her face.

"Gotchya!" She says, and starts giggling.

"So, not nice!" I say, copying her.

The front door opens, and Stormee has her .45, from the nightstand, out in a split second.

"Good reaction time, kid. I can't say the same about you Dean," Dad eyes me.

We get to talking about the demon and planning cases. Dad leaves to follow something up.

Two weeks later, he's still gone.

Stormee's P.O.V.

He doesn't answer calls or texts, anything.

"What are we gonna do, Dean? He's never done this before, has he?"

"No, he usually pops up a couple days later, and sends check in texts. But, this, this is not normal," Dean says.

"So, what do we do?" I ask, leaning forward. We're in a motel room in Colorado Springs.

"Storm, we have to get Sam."

"What, wait, why do we have to get Sam?" I ask, horrified. Not really at it being Sam, but at the thought of having to face him after so long. What was I going to say? 'Nice to see you again, I miss you holding me at night?'

"Because, it's Dad, Stormee. He needs to at least know."

"How am I supposed to do this, though? Dean, how am I gonna face him? His new life, everything?" I stand up and hug him, burying my face in his chest.

"Hey, hey, it's gonna be okay. It's not like he's a suit. So, come on, Storm, lets pack up. We're going to college."

Sam's P.O.V.

_Crash._

I sit up in bed and listen. The old dormant hunter in me, kicking in. I hear something else and get out of bed, trying not to wake Jessica. I slip into the hallway, back against the wall.

There's a figure in the den, walking around, hunching to look at things. I tackle him. We wrestle around and in about two minutes I am pinned to the ground looking up at-Dean. I haven't seen him in four freaking years.

"Whoa, easy, tiger," he says.

"Dean?" I ask, a little out of breath.

He chuckles.

"You scared the the crap outta me!"

"That's cause your outta practice," he laughs.

I grab his arm thats holding me down and flip him over, where I'm pinning him.

"Or not," he says and I pat his arm.

"Get off me," he says and I help him up.

"Dean, what are you doing here?"

"Well, I was looking for a beer."

"Dean, what the hell are you doing here?" I ask, getting suspicious.

"Okay, we need to talk," he says.

Just then, the light comes on and Jessica is standing in the open doorway.

Dean's P.O.V.

Stormee walks up behind me, I guess she just now crawled through the open window. She stands to my left because Sam is on my right, Jessica in front of us.

"Well, who's this? Sam, she is way outta your league." Stormee hits me in the back of the head, follow by a 'I'm going outside'. The front door shuts and its hell trying to get Sam to come outside to talk.

"Okay, dad's on a hunting trip. And he hasn't been home in a few days," I say, Jessica still in the room.

Sam's eyes grow with realization and we head outside. Stormee is in the Impala, and after a few minutes of arguing and fussing, Sam is going to help us find Dad.

Stormee's P.O.V.

I sink down in the passenger seat when I hear their voices get louder. What am I going to say to him? What am I supposed to do? It's not like I can just forget everything from before. And, that girl in their? Twenty times hotter than me.

"Dean, you know there's EVP on that, right?" Sam asks. It's been so long since I've heard his voice. Dean must be telling him about John's last info. I blink back tears, but one finds it way down my cheek. I don't bother to wipe it away. Dean comes over to the driver's side.

"Hey, Storm, come on out for a minute," he smiles in understanding, whispering, "It'll be okay," before turning back the trunk. I get out of the car, forgetting about the stray tear.

Sam looks up from the weapons and papers in the trunk, and the first thing he sees it that tear.

Sam's P.O.V.

I take Stormee in, again. Seeing her for the first time in four years. She's crying, or at least, she was. I lean forward, all the feelings rushing back, as I pull a hand up to wipe the tear away, just like before. But, before I do, Dean is there, cradling her face, wiping the tear himself. And just like that, I realize it. I left them, and then they only had each other, and my heart breaks.

Stormee's P.O.V.

We head out to Jericho, California, which is only about seven freaking hours! Sam is sitting in the backseat, because shotgun is officially mine, has been for a while. Dean's thrumming the beat to the music on the steering wheel, eyes set forward. I chance a look back at Sam. He's reading through some printed off papers; brow furrowed in concentration. Oh, that little furrow. Storm, cool it.

We pull into a Stop'n'Shop and I feel a little tired. After I go inside, Dean filling up the car and Sam scolding him about credit card fraud, I grab snacks and some magazines then pay for them, with said credit cards, and head out.

"Hey, Sam, you can, uh, have the front for now. I'm gonna lay down for a bit. Dean, don't manage to hit Bambi while I'm asleep, kay?" I smile and Sam gets up front.

As I lay in the back, eye cracked open, studying the pair up front, Sam grabs Dean's box of music tapes.

"I swear, man, you gotta update your cassette tape collection," Sam says, looking at him. Dean looks back, incredulous.

"Why?"

"For one, they're cassette tapes. And two, Black Sabbath, Motor Head, Metallica? It's the greatest hits of mullet rock."

"Well, house rules, Sammy. Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole," Dean says, and tosses a tape back in the box.

"You know, 'Sammy' is a chubby twelve-year-old's name. It's Sam, okay? " Sam says, eying Dean who turns up the music and smiles.

"Sorry, can't hear you, the music's too loud."

I giggle involuntarily, and smile. I got my boys back.

Dean tears off down the road, and I start napping.

Stormee's P.O.V.

_Later  
_

I wake and sit up, just as Sam get off the phone with some morgue attendant. We pull up to a bridge, and there are cops everywhere. We get out, armed with fake IDs, and the cops say that a man was found dead in his car, on this closed bridge. Dean smarts off, earning a confused look and glare from the policeman. Sam steps on his foot. As we're walking away Dean smacks him in the back of the head.

"What was that for?" Sam asks, rubbing his head.

"Why'd you have to step on my foot?"

"Why do you have to talk to policemen like that?"

I step in between them, putting my arms around each of their shoulders, which is alot of work on my part. Sam's a fucking Sasquatch; hence the nickname.

"Why can't we be friends, why can't we be friends?" I say in a sing-song voice, smiling up at them.

Later, we are walking down a side-walk and run into the guy who died's girlfriend. She's gothic, which is cool to me. And Sam talks to her about the pentagram pendant she has on. We leave, after gathering a little information and head to the library. Dean sits down at the only open computer and Sam takes the seat next to him, in front of a 'out of order' computer. I stand behind them, leaning on their chairs. After a few minutes and no results, Dean comes to a conclusion that their is nothing to be found. Sam pushes Dean's chair back and scoots his in front of the working computer.

"Maybe it wasn't a homocide on the bridge," Sams says as he types in 'suicide on centennial'.

I smile when results pop up. Contstance Welch, jumped off Centennial Highway Bridge just after her children mysteriously drowned. Never to resurface.

We head to a motel and after Dean pays with Hector Aframian's fake credit card, the clerk eyes him.

"Family reunion?"

"What do you mean?" Dean asks.

"Another guy, Burt Aframian, bought out a room for the whole month."

"What room?" Dean asks, serious.

We head to said room, and pick the lock. All the materials are here. Strings pinned to papers that are taped to the wall.

"So, Contance was a woman in white," Sam says, studying the paper-lined wall.

Dean starts walking out to the Impala to go get something, I think food, leaving Sam and I in the room, alone.

"So, um, how have you been?" He asks, for the first time since we've been together again.

I open my mouth to answer but his phone rings.

"Dude, 5-O. Take off," Dean says, loud enough for me to hear.

"What about you?"

"Uh, they kinda spotted me. Go find Dad."

Sam looks out the window, as Dean is being handcuffed. We bolt out through the back window, as a cop starts raiding the room.

Dean's P.O.V.

Some fat cop handcuff's me to a table and another guy comes in, with a cardboard box.

"So, Dean, what's all this?" He asks me. My eyes go wide for a split second.

"Your wondering how I know your name? Here," he throws a book from then box in front of me. Dad's journal. "I've seen some crazy stuff in my time, but this is some scary shit. Are y'all some kind of occultists or something?" He flips to a page in the book. "Dean, I'm guessing this is you." He points to the words, written in black on the page.

"Now, your not getting outta here, until you tell me exactly what this means." He jabs at the words on the page.

'Dean, 35-111.'


	21. Woman in White, Pilot, Part 2

Stormee's P.O.V.

"Mr. Welch, tell me about what happened to Constance?" Sam asks the man.

We are in a junk-yard, in which the man, Joseph Welch, lives now. I'm standing to Sam's left, fingering the fake press ID in my right pocket. Joseph rubs his head.

"Don't you think your wife, Constance, could have been suffering from temporary insanity, and drowned the kids then threw herself off the bridge? Thus becoming a woman in white, and killing unfaithful men on the highway? All because of learning of your adultery, sir?" Sam asks, in a more forward tone. I shift from foot to foot. Constance is a woman in white, and as long as she's still distressed and caught up in the cheating, she will terrorize and murder innocent men. Well, not completely innocent. Dean is in jail, and Sam and I have to figure this thing out together.

"I loved Constance! She was my life. Now, leave. And don't come back!" Joseph Welch bellows. We make our apologies and leave to the Impala. I slide into shotgun and Sam gets into the driver's side, pulling out his cell phone.

Thirty minutes later, Sam is on the phone again, with Dean this time. They're talking about his fake call to the police station, enabling Dean to escape. Sam jerks the car to a halt, shouting out. In front of the car stands Constance Welch, in a white dress. Sam floors the Impala, driving straight through her.

"Take me home," her ethereal form says, now between us. Sam refuses. The car starts driving on its own, hell-bent for home.

Sam's P.O.V.

The car pulls to a stop, after speeding to the destination; the old Welch house.

"I can never go home," Constance says and disappears. Stormee is frozen in the passenger seat, a look of horror and sadness etched in her face. I turn to the door, and the locks click shut. My seat flies backwards, reclining all the way. Stormee lunges forward to grab at me, then she is forced back into her seat.

"Sam!" She shouts, forcing her neck to move, allowing her teared up eyes to meet mine. Constance appears above me, straddling me. I struggle to sit up. She looms inches from my face.

"You can't kill me. I'm not unfaithful. I never have been," I say, happy at my realization. She leans down more, and whispers in my ear.

"Yes, you have," she turns and looks at Stormee, I chance a glimpse. One single tear slides down her cheek. "And you will be, again," she continues and starts to kiss me. I stretch as far as I can to try to start the car back up. Constance flicks away again, then back and a searing pain encompasses my chest. I pull my jacket away and look at new forming, and burning finger holes on my skin. There's a shot, and I look to the left to see Dean standing outside of the broken car window. Constance dissipates, but only for now. I lean up and turn on the car.

"I'm taking you home," I say, cheesy as it is, and floor the car into the house. It comes to a halt a few moments later, wooden boards tumbling down the windshield.

I look to Stormee who's eyes are shut, head limp. I quickly crawl out and over to the passenger door. I lift her unresponsive body from the car, laying her on the floor. Dean runs inside.

"Stormee, wake up. Hey, can you hear me? Storm, come on," I say, shaking her a little. Dean leans down.

"Storm, its time to wake up," he says, slowly moving a hand over her cheek. She groans slightly and her eyes flutter open.

Little moments like this, and my heart breaks again. They only had each other. My thoughts were cut short, by Constance appearing at the end of the staircase, with a photo frame in her hand. Water starts to slide down the stairs.

Dean's P.O.V.

I pull Stormee up to me, holding her protectively against my chest. Sam stands up fully and takes in the scene around us. Constance flickers and two children appear at the top of the stairs. They start talking to her, but I don't hear them. I'm concentrated on Stormee. A dresser drawer slides across the floor towards us. Before it hits, pinning us to the Impala I turn, where Stormee is facing the car and arch my back a little. The dresser comes in contact with my back and I yelp, holding Stormee tighter. I jump in front of the bullet persay.

"No! NO!" Constance screams. But, that's in the background. Stormee is all I'm worried about. I try as best I can to push back against it, taking any and all of the weight I can off of her. My spine is burning. I turn my head, as much as I can, just in time to see Constance, getting confronted by her children and being dragged into a puddle at the base of the stairs.

The pressure on my back decreases tremendously as Sam pushes the dresser over. I clutch Stormee to me tighter, and she buries her face in my neck.

"Is it over, Dean? Is she gone?" She asks, in a frightened child's voice.

"Yeah, babygirl, its alright now," I say, remembering what I call her when she's scared. I let her go, kneeling in front of the Impala, Sam behind me to my right and Stormee to my left, my cockiness returning.

"And Sam, if you screwed up my car," I say turning to look at him. "I'll kill you."

Sam's P.O.V.

He calls her 'babygirl' now? Wait, I can't care. I left it all behind.

"So, Dad's in a place called Blackwater Ridge," I say scanning the page. "From the coordinates he left."

"Let's go, then," Dean says, starting to turn up the tunes. Stormee lay asleep in the backseat.

"I'm not going, Dean," I say, remembering my interview.

"Why the hell not?" He asks, eyes filled with confusion. "Don't you wanna find Dad?"

"Of course I do, Dean. But, I have an interview tomorrow, in a couple hours actually, and this is my new life now. I swore I was done hunting."

Dean doesn't reply, just grips the steering wheel, eyes set hard on the dark road.

Around eight or nine hours later, we pull up in front of my apartment. Stormee had woken, but neither I nor Dean said anything about where we were headed. Now, she lay asleep again, in the backseat. I turn around, looking one last time at my past then get out of the car, gently closing the creaking door.

I say nothing as I grab my bag from the trunk and unlock the door. Dean drives away. I walk inside, throwing my bag down on the stuffed chair to the left of the door. It was just a couple nights ago that Dean and I wrestled on this floor. I shake the thought and walk into the bedroom. I hear the shower running and there is a plate of cookies on the circular wooden table. A note sits upon them: _Missed you! Love you!_

I deduce that Jess is in the bathroom, showering, so I plop down on the bed, putting my hands behind my head. I sigh, my eyes closed, content to be home. Then something drips onto my forehead. I shake my head away, eyes still shut. Maybe just a fly. Another drop. A crease makes its home in my brow as I open my eyes. The first thing I see, is Jessica. Nightgown drenched in blood on the midsection, eyes pleading, pinned to the ceiling.

"No! Jess!" I scream, crawling backwards on the bed. Flames start coursing around her, engulfing her form. I cover my face with my arms, just as Dean runs into the bedroom, grabbing me and hauling me outside. Stormee is outside, leaning against the Impala, with fear in her eyes. A tear falls out of her eye and rolls down her cheek. She is shivering from the cold. After I've calmed down Dean starts to talk.

"What now, Sammy?" He asks. My resolve conquers. My sadness for the loss of Jessica snuffed out by the rage at the thing that killed her.

"We have some work to do," I say, slamming the trunk shut after putting in some things saved from the fire.

"Sir? Mr. Winchester?" A voice calls from behind me. I turn, nodding in his direction. "There is one more thing we could get out. Wouldn't burn cause it's metal or iron or something. But, it's got some fire stains." He hands me an object, wrapped in a dirty wet towel. I unroll the towel.

My lock-box.


	22. Truth or Dare

Stormee's P.O.V.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

"What's this?" I ask Sam from the back. I can tell _what_ it is but, I want to know what's in it.

"That's, uh, my lockbox," Sam says from the passenger seat. Dean is in the gas station, committing fraud. Charles Ajax is the name on the card this time.

"Well, duh, I mean, what's in it?" I move the charred lock on the front around in my fingers. It's been two days…and Sam has just been in his own world. The motels we've slept at, I always slept with Dean. Sam hasn't really spoken more than four or five words. "Sam? You there?"

"Uh, yeah. Um, letters," he says, shooting a quick glance back at me. "To be honest."

I kind of understand what he's going through. I was that way for a while, after Carter left. And when my parents died. But, it's different when you're going through it, than when you're watching someone hurt like this. It almost takes me back to before; almost makes me experience the grief again. I shake my head to clear my thoughts.

"Oh, well, who to? Oh, gosh, is it letters to God? Like on the movie?" I exclaim, trying to joke him out of his makeshift shell.

"Not really. Unless you think your—wait, I mean unless you think that God is human. They are just to a few people I know."

"Wow, you said more than five words! And they are in a lockbox, why?" I ask, knocking the lock back and forth against the metal container. He fidgets in his seat.

"Because they will never be read and will never be sent," is his reply.

"H-ohkaayyy, then," I say and slide the lockbox into its former resting place; the backseat's floorboard. I'm going to pick the lock and do some reading later. I know it might seem wrong, but its obvious Sam is hiding something. Dean comes back to the car and we tear off down the road. A few moments later we turn off onto what Dean calls a 'quickie', which is one of his words that mean both exactly what I'm thinking as he says it, appalled, and a shortcut.

As we drive, I turn in the seat, watching the sunset. It sounds really cheesy but, it actually is beautiful. Above us the light hue of blue turns into purple. And that into pink, dusky orange, yellow, and then green, traced back down to the horizon. We pull back onto a paved road and, as the night grows a dark shade of blue, into another motel. Dean checks us in at the front desk and we head to room twenty-nine.

"Well," Dean says, unlocking the paint-chipped yellow door, "We won't be in Blackwater 'til Wednesday. So, tonight's a freebee. I say…bar, anyone?" I smile widely and charge past him into the room. I flip the lights on and face the boys. Sam looks all sullen, hiding in himself.

"I'm in," I exclaim, tossing my bag onto the bed nearest to me and rooting through it for some jeans and a tank top. Once I find my pickings I jumpstart into the bathroom, not even bothering to acknowledge Sam and Dean's confused looks. I'm too excited for a night on the town. I slip into a pair of faded curvy jeans and a black Ed Hardy tank. It has 'Love Kills Slowly' on ribbon, surrounded by skulls, hearts and roses. I love this one. I do a once-over in the mirror and throw my hair up into a messy bun that looks really good despite the term 'messy'. I smile as I apply a little makeup. I'm ready for a little fun. I head back into the main part of the room and pull on some red high-top Converse after discarding my boots in the corner. Dean eyes me from his seat on the edge of the bed and adjusts his leather jacket. Sam is idly flipping through some papers.

"We ready to head out?" Dean asks, looking from me to Sam.

"No time for questions. Let's go!" I say, practically bouncing. We head outside and cruise around in the Impala until we find a suitable dive. The three of us get out and walk up to the metal door and into a smoky barroom. I sigh, content, and plop myself into a stool in front of the bar.

"Well, what can I get you today, sweet thing?" The bartender asks me, smiling. I play nice, instead of climbing over the bar and kneeing him in the balls for calling me 'sweet thing'.

"Two shots of whiskey and a beer," I reply as Dean sits down to my left and Sam to my right. Are they trying to box me in or something? They both order and I wait for the barkeep to bring my poison. A few moments later, after a couple looks around the bar, he sits two shot glasses with light brown contents and a dark bottle of beer in front of me. I drink my two shots and grab a bottle opener that lies on the counter. After I open the cap, I take a huge swig. There is a stage in the back right corner, adorned with streamers and a lonely looking karaoke machine. Oh, yes, I'm there. But, not before I've had a little more to drink.

"Hey, bartender, can I get a couple more shots? Wait, no a round for the three of us?" I call to the man behind the counter. He nods, with a smile and loads up shot glasses. The boys look at me and I laugh.

"I am doing karaoke. And as long as I'm drunk, and so is everyone else. I'll be amazing!" I say.

The beer-guy as I call him, 'Dallas' as his name-tag reads, bring the shots and I down mine, savoring the burn in my throat. I take a few more drinks of my beer and stand up, shoving my way through patrons dancing, grinding, and milling around. Someone picked up the abandoned microphone and started singing a Travis Tritt tune before I got up. I stand in front of the makeshift 8 by 8 stage and wait for the song to be over. After it is, another man comes onstage and takes the mic asking about who wants to come up. I do a little wave and make my way up the step to the platform. I take the cordless/handheld microphone. I kneel to the small karaoke machine and button through options. It seems all they have in this dive is country, new and old, so I pick a Taylor Swift song for some odd reason. The title just screams 'sad' and I still pick it. As the guitar strums start to move out from the speakers I realize I know the song.

"Drew looks at me. I fake a smile so he won't see that I want and I'm needing everything that we should be. I'll bet she's beautiful; that girl he talks about. And she's got everything that I have to live without." I pull a stool from the side of the stage and take a seat after finding a microphone stand, adjusting the height and angle before placing the mic in a holder. All the while I'm singing. I place both hands on the side of the mic and close my eyes; letting the music drift through me.

"Drew talks to me, I laugh 'cause it's so damn funny. And I can't even see anyone when he's with me. He says he's so in love, he's finally got it right, I wonder if he knows he's all I think about at night." I am vaguely aware of the calls and claps throughout the instrumental breaks.

"He's the reason for the teardrops on my guitar. The only thing that keeps me wishing on a wishing star. He's the song in the car I keep singing, don't know why I do. Drew walks by me; can he tell that I can't breathe? And there he goes, so perfectly, the kind of flawless I wish I could be. She better hold him tight, give him all her love; look in those beautiful eyes and know she's lucky 'cause;" I open my eyes and look straight at them both. Back and forth, back and forth, meeting deep green eyes every time.

"He's the reason for the teardrops on my guitar. The only thing that keeps me wishing on a wishing star  
He's the song in the car I keep singing, don't know why I do. So I drive home alone, as I turn out the light  
I'll put his picture down and maybe get some sleep tonight." I don't know who I'm singing to. I just know that I have to sing it. It means something to me. I can relate somehow.

"He's the reason for the teardrops on my guitar. The only one who's got enough of me to break my heart. He's the song in the car I keep singing, don't know why I do. He's the time taken up, but there's never enough. And he's all that I need to fall into.

"Drew looks at me; I fake a smile so he won't see."

I stand after the last lines and walk through the clapping crowd, back to my seat. I grab my jacket that hangs on the back of my bar stool, throw a little money on the counter, take a last drink of my beer and exit through the same metal door. All the while avoiding Sam and Dean's eyes. Six steps out of the door, I hear a pair of footsteps exit the barroom. Then, another, lighter pair. I slide into the passenger seat of the Impala and lay my head down against the seat. Dean gets in next to me. I can tell its him not by opening my eyes, but hearing the familiar fabric of his jacket rustle and slide against the leather of the seat and the musky, partial cologne smell of Dean. The back door opens and shuts, along with the other, followed by the engine starting up and the 'ruummmmm' of the gas pedal being pushed. It seems Dean picked up a chick. I've long since learned that even though Dean and I have our moments, he still has his girls. We stop once on the way back; Dean needing to pick up something for the night. We pull up into the parking lot of the motel and I make my way inside, fingering the keys I got from Dean. I unlock the door and lay back on my elbows on the bed farthest from the door.

"Hey, Sammy, did you know that Storm can sing?" Dean asks from his place by the table, going through a couple of paper and plastic bags. The chick, Kara as I've now learned, leans on the table next to him.

"Hey…" I say, trying to make him stop talking. It's embarrassing now. I'm drunk and I got up in front of a bar full of people and slurred out a perfectly good song. "You…shut up."

Dean chuckles and holds up a brown paper bag, sliding a bottle of Vodka out of it. Sam sits on the edge of the bed I'm on. Kara just twirls hair around on her finger.

"Seriously, Dean, you are made of awesome sauce," I laugh and get up, walking over and rooting through the other bags and pulling out some cheap plastic shot glasses.

"Awesome sauce?" Dean eyes me. "Are you ever gonna not be a kid?"

"No, 'cause no one ever really grows up. They just learn how to act around other people," I say, earning laughs from Sam and Kara. I take the bottle out of his hand and fill up four glasses. After a couple, well, four or five rounds, we are all laid out on the floor, leaning back on our hands, laying on our sides, or criss-cross applesauce. See, I never really grew up.

"Come on, guys, talk to me. I'm boooored," I say bouncing a little. They laugh and an idea pops in my head.

"I want to play a game," my idea is voiced. Sam gets this look of horror on his face and I show confusion right back. "What?"

"That's what the killer says in 'Saw'." Sam replies, scooting back a little.

"Who's the kid now, Mr. Fearless," I say back, giggling. "No, like 'Have You Ever' or 'Truth or Dare'."

"I am in!" Dean says, the seven-year-old kid look plastered on his smiling face. Kara nods excitedly, too.

"I haven't played 'Truth or Dare' since like ninth grade…" Sam says, sitting up.

"Well, surely you remember how. So, let's start. Um, Dean, truth or dare?" I ask.

"I guess truth," he replies, leaning forward a little.

"How many chicks have you actually slept with?" I ask, laughing. Like he can remember.

"42." The answer is so matter-of-fact and fast that I doubt I heard it in the first place.

"How do you even know that?" Sam asks, one eyebrow raised.

"Hey, it's not like I'm completely heartless."

"No, just a man-hoe," I laugh, jokingly.

"Okay then, Storm, truth or dare?" He asks back, narrowing his eyes a little.

"Truth!" I shout, not wanting to know what he would dare me to do.

"How many guys have you been with?"

"One," my answer is short-clipped. "Yeah, yeah, I need to get laid, I know. And, no, Dean, that is not and invitation."

"Dangit…" is his reply. Kara pokes him in the side, giggling.

"Okay, so, Sam, truth or dare?" I ask, turning my attention to him.

"Um, dare." He says, not waiting a beat.

"Oh, someone finally takes a risk," I joke. "Okay, Sam…I dare you to…lick the T.V. screen!"

"Oh, no way, dude," his eyes go wide and he shakes his head. "It looks sticky!" He sounds like a total girl.

"No, Sam, she dares you to kiss her!" Kara slurs. My face takes on the look that goes along with 'Uh, what'd you say'. "What? I can see the way you're eying him!" Sam looks back and forth between Kara and I and Dean looks down. I swear I can hear the alcohol taking affect in his brain gears.

"Uh, I, eh, um," Sam sputters, still flitting back and forth between us. Dean doesn't speak a word.

Kara nudges him with her elbow. "Go on, stud."

Sam leans toward me and I automatically find his lips with my own. The fuzzy sounds in the background, Dean and Kara fidgeting, the T.V. playing idly, the late-night traffic, all seem distant, the only sound being the movement of Sam's lips on mine. I don't know how much time has passed but it seems too early that he pulls away, breaking the kiss. I release my breath, not knowing that I had it held within me.

"Yay!" Kara shouts. "Ya know, Dean, since they are here, too, how about we go to my place tonight instead?" She eyes him like candy.

"Yeah, this games for kids anyway," he says and gets up. I lean back and grab the room key from the bed behind me and toss it at him. He grabs the keys to the car and makes his way, Kara on his arm, to the door. Sam hasn't moved. "You kids have fun. But, not too much fun." He laughs and closes the door behind him.

"Well, I'm gonna put on some shorts and sleep this off," I say and head into the bathroom with a change of night clothes. I pull of my tank top and jeans, replacing them with a tee. I don't bother with the shorts because I'm used to only sleeping with Dean, and that's in different beds. The shirt is long anyway. I don't realize my attire is all that bad until I look into the mirror to rinse my face off. It's Sam's old t-shirt. I didn't even know I still had it. I shake off the thoughts and head back into the other room, sliding into the bed farthest from the door. Sam had changed while I was gone; now in sweats and a muscle tee. He flips off the T.V. and stands at the end of the bed.

"What?" I ask, crawling under the covers, reaching uselessly towards the lamp that's out of my reach.

"You're gonna sleep in this bed tonight?" he asks, leaning to one side.

"Oh, climb in, already. It's not like we haven't slept in the same bed before," I wave my hand dismissively and he slides in next to me, twisting the notch to turn the light off. I roll onto my stomach and hike my leg up. It nudges against his hip. "Deal with it," I mutter, face in the pillow. "No, wait. I'm cold." I don't know why I say it, because I'm not. Probably just drunk talk. I lean onto my side and force him over to me. It's a lot of work on my part; he's pretty big. I roll half-way onto his chest and wrap my left arm over him, letting my leg rest on his. I lay my head in the space between his chest and shoulder.

"Night, Sammy," I say, closing my eyes. He slowly slips his left arm around my back, resting his hand on my shoulder.

"Night, Storm," he replies, tipping his head down. I make a small smile, glad to have my Sam back.

And then they come back. After I drift off, I'm pulled into the dreams I used to have. I'm with Carter again.


	23. 322 San Pueblo Drive

_My wrists. Tied together in the back of the same old wooden chair. I didn't look at him, but I could feel his eyes on me. There's no use struggling. All that does is send phantom pains to my hands, where the rope cuts into them._

_"Stormee, baby, look at me," Carter says, slowly. I resist. I hate seeing him with those black eyes._

_"What do you want, Carter?" I ask for the nth time. Not-Carter smiles, I can see that under my bangs. Why do I always feel so bang-up in these dreams? I look down on myself and notice I'm still wearing Sam's old t-shirt. The one I'd worn to bed. It has a little pocket on the top left of it. Those little pockets that no one knows why they're actually there._

_"I want you to come to me. That's what I've been asking of you all this long, long time, Storm." He says, looking down at me, seeming to pace slowly._

_"How can I come to you when I have no idea where you are? You've been gone for years, it's no use chasing the damn wind for you, Especially how you are now." I blow the bangs out of my eyes and look up to him. All he can cause me is a bad dream. So, why am I so scared?_

_"Take this. Then come find me. And bring your precious 'Sammy' too." Carter rests down onto one-knee. An old piece of me, a happy one, thinks how cute that would have been years ago, when he was really Carter. The thought brought undesired shivers._

_He slipped a piece of paper into the little pocket of Sam's shirt. So, that's what their for. Tiny, half-worn sheets of paper, scribbled on by your not-ex-boyfriend. How inventrous._

I woke up shaking and feeling drained. The minute I sat up in bed, Sam seemed to react the same way. It's hard to catch my breath. And, reluctantly, the tears start falling.

"Oh, Storm, come here." Sam drawls, sleepily. Though he's half asleep, his voice is full of concern. And I lean into him. Then I hear the crinkle. Something like paper. Coming from where our chests meet.

I jolt backwards, knocking the top of my back into the wall behind me.

"Are you okay, what's going on?" Sam is on full-alert now.

I slowly reach into the tiny-pocket on my shirt, fingers fumbling and catching on half-worn paper. I draw in a quick breath. Then, I take the paper out of my pocket.

 _322 San Pueblo Drive._ is written in perfect long-hand, I can respect as Carter's writing.

"It's real, Sam." I breathe. "The dreams, they're all real."


	24. Letters of the Lost

Sam and I decided to wait until Dean had returned from is 'evening things' from last night. I told him all that had happened in the dream and those from before. How Not-Carter wanted me to come to him. The black eyes. I withheld nothing.

I bring my knees to my chest and stare at the paper in the middle of the bed. Visions of fantasy, bleeding into what I had thought was reality. What is reality anymore? What is fantasy? I don't know. I look up to Sam, and he can only give the same concerned expression he had when we found the paper last night. And then, in a classic Sam-like way, he asks, "Okay, so you're telling me, you're having dreams. And in these dreams your ex-boyfriend is handing you notes to I assume meet him... are you cheating on me?" he jokes, trying to lighten my mood. I crack half a smile.

"Oh, heaven's no. You know you're the only suitor my mamma would see fit." I joked back. Just then, the door to the motel room swung open and Dean pillared into the room with two great-sized bags that smelled of bacon. How nice, he brought breakfast. I jumped up, forgetting about the paper, the dreams and took one of the bags from him, setting it on the little circular table in the corner of the room.

"Food, yay. I love food. Food is good. Mmm, awesomesauce." I say, sounding more like myself, than the me-from-last-night. It seems Sam hasn't forgotten about it though.

"Dean, after breakfast. We need to talk." Sam said from the bed, looking distraught. Dean gave Sam an exasperated look, along with a sigh.

"What is it, now? Sam? Need tampons?" Dean asked, cockily. Then, with and new sense of disgust, "No, don't answer that." I laughed, and dug into a bacon and cheese biscuit. Dean's favorite, as is mine.

We finished eating and I took the few moments to spare in between to put on some of deans sweats and a tank-top. I pulled my hair into a bun and walked back into the living room. Then, I relayed all the dream information to Dean.

"With Carter's powers before, it doesn't seem too far-off for him to be able to send dreams to Storm, like this." Sam finished, fiddling with his hands. Dean looked like he was seriously considering this.

"Okay, have you checked out this address on the GPS?" Dean asked. No, I answered in my head. I hadn't even thought of it.

"Yes," Sam said, throwing me off. He quieted my confused look with, "While you took a shower this morning I looked it up on Google Maps and it's a warehouse a couple towns over. Or a bakery in West Virginia. Those are the only places with a 322 on that street name."

"Okay, so, Sam come one, let's go gas the baby up. We're going to," he looked at the laptop Sam had gotten out. "Magnolia. Storm, can you pack up while we're gone?" I nodded instantly. They exited, leaving me alone in the motel room. I put all the excess clothes from changing this morning into their respective duffels and set them on the ends of each bed. Now, where are my boots? I looked under the bed, which is where they almost always end up and pushing a metal box out of the way, I grab my boot and pull it out. Metal box? How could I easily disregard a random metal box under my bed?

I pulled the box out and set it on the bed. It's Sam's lock-box. And the lock isn't shut. I open it, checking out the window first. I would hear the Impala enter the lot, regardless. It's full of envelopes. I pull the top one out and feel my brows furrow, a lot like Sam's do. _Stormee_ is written across the first one. And Dean's name on the second. On and on, throughout the whole box. I open the envelope with my name on it and see Sam's semi-familiar writing.

_Stormee,_

_Hey, hell, I can't believe it. It's been four damn years. You should be turning my age soon. Happy twenty-second, sometime. I hope you've been keeping yourself out of trouble. I told myself a million times that I was going to leave it all behind right? But, I can't let go, of what wasn't mine in the first place. So, here comes good-bye. For good this time. I'm going to put the books up for good. I can't keep living in the past. Even though its like it was yesterday. And, I still care. I still find myself waking up in the middle of the night, when Jessica rolls over or something, and I think it's you having another dream. Sometimes I wake up in the morning, and I look around for the keys to the Impala, so I can sneak Dean breakfast. And sometimes, I call her Storm. And that is why, I have to fully let go. I'm not gonna run my life in the past. I can't. But if I could, I-_

The letter cuts off, just as I hear the Impala roar into the parking lot. I quickly replaced the contents of the box. Had he written me and Dean while he was at Stanford? I slide the box back under the bed, with the corner out so Sam will see it and remember to grab it, naturally.

"Storm, why are you crying?" Dean asks as soon as he enters the room. It's not until he said it that I noticed the tears streaking down my cheeks. Why was I crying?

"Hell, I don't know. Honestly," I say, wiping my eyes. He didn't look satisfied so I hefted two duffel bags and went out to load them into the car. Sam had came in a retrieved his lock-box along with his duffel. Then he tried to nonchalantly slide his lock-box under the front seat.


	25. Blue Hues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, for making it this far. As I stated in the original summary, I began writing this in 2011, stopped somewhere in 2014. If anyone feels like they actually would like it continued, comment and let me know to continue writing it after all this time!

The drive to Magnolia was short but unpleasant. The state needed to come out and re-pave the potholes and cracks. Evey time we hit one it seemed Dean cried a little inside because of how it might hurt his baby. The Impala, I mean. I surrendered the front seat back to Sam...for now. God knows he's ridden there much more than I have, given he basically grew up in this thing. Ah, if only Dean knew I referred to her as a thing...that would earn me an ear full. Finally, we found a motel about a mile away from the warehouse on San Pablo and I jumped at the chance to stretch my legs.

"Here, Storm," Dean called and tossed me the keys, which I deftly caught. Hunter skills and all. I unlocked the trunk and began to heft three of the duffels out, losing my balance. Sam caught me by the elbow and took two of the three off my hands. But not before I felt the jolt of lighting at his touch.

We made our way inside the room quietly. It was much after dusk because we made a late start from the last motel. The familiar clink of Dean's keys were the only sound in the room as I tossed them onto the nightstand separating two beds..as always. Then followed the pat and huff of army duffels onto the threadbare carpet.

"Sammy, hit that lamp over there," Dean said from the end of the bed. Sam followed the non-order, non-question without hesitation. I had a scenario in my mind that Sam walked over and punched the lamp. Literally. I giggled.

"What?" Dean questioned.

"Nothin'. Nothin'. Just...childish brain activity," I replied, smiling. Sam pulled out his laptop and began canvassing the area surrounding the warehouse. Dean turned on the boob tube and sat at the end of his bed.

"So get this," Sam began as usual. "It used to be home to the local slaughterhouse in the seventies." He turned the laptop around and Dean and I leaned closer. "But it was closed and deemed unsafe for the public because...get this...it was set on fire May 2nd, 1983."

"Get what?" I asked as Dean leaned back warily. "What? What is it?"

"Its my birthday. Not just the every year thing, like..." Sam stated.

"The actual day he was birthed." Dean shudders.

"I'm not sure that's the way you're supposed to say that, Dean," I said and looked back to Sam. I sat back on the bed next to Dean. "So, it was set on fire then I'm guessing the fire caused irreparable damage? So why did Carter want to send me there? And why did it happen on your birthday?"

"Why does anything happen like it does?" Sam questioned rhetorically and he met my eyes for a split second. I'm sure he wasn't just referring to the sorta-case.

"Alright, lets hit the hay. Gonna head out early to recon this pile of tin," Dean stood and clapped his hands, heading for the bathroom. I shuddered at the thought of early... Sam seemed to read my mind.

"Haven't you noticed his definition of early is noonish after bacon?" He laughed and I smiled too. I liked seeing him look happy after so many days of mourning...over Jessica... Not that I'm going to be selfish and be like all jealous...I understand..completely. But, there's still the part of me that wishes he wouldn't have gone in the first place. He could've avoided this heartache by staying with Dean and I. Or could he, my subconscious stated blatantly.

The shower began running and I just sat and stared at the corner of the TV box. Three full minutes later, it shut back off and dean came out drying his hair. Sam was still tap-tap-tapping away at the keys on his computer. I took the liberty of the bathroom.

I rinsed my face off in front of the mirror and threw my hair into a messy knot. I'll shower in the morning. I brushed my teeth and undressed. Looking around the room I noticed my mistake. Why did I always forget my bag? I opened the door and leaned out, half-coverring myself with the door. "Dean..." I started. He cut me off.

"Got it, Storm." He knows me so well, I thought as he handed me my duffel and winked. I smiled my thanks before shutting the door. I hopped in the shower anyway. Lathering up with my own body wash, I felt clean enough and rinsed. I jumped out and wrapped a scratchy towel around myself. After drying and dressing...well putting a familiar tee and boyshorts on, I headed into the main room. Sam stood, glancing at his old tee shirt and walked into the bathroom quietly. Dean was already in bed.

"Think I could change sleeping with you by the door, Dean?" I asked quietly. I was drunk last night. I didn't want to just sleep in the same bed with Sam again, after all that's happened with Jessica. He needs time. And I need...Hell, I don't know what I need. He's replies by lifting the covers and I slide in next to him. Turning towards the center of the room, I wad the covers against my chest. Dean stays on his back but hooks his left arm under my neck and onto my shoulder. He's not so great with words but he can show a lot of sympathy. He understands. And I love him for it.

The bathrom light clicked off. Sam emerged in a towel. The only light was the TV and the TV's light glinting off the beads of water collecting on his chest and stomach. He clicks off the TV and my eyes haven't adjusted yet. Then I hear the swoosh of the towel hit the floor. It comes slowly, like a dimness in the corner turning everything hues of blue. When my vision returns, Sam stands before me, naked back turned towards me. Sweats on. He slides into the bed...farthest from the door. I close my eyes and hear the covers against covers sound of him tossing and turning. Dean turns behind me, tightens his arm and pulls me closer. I nuzzle into his arm. That Dean smell. I dream of different shades of blue tonight.


End file.
